


Consider the Sea Beasts

by nauticaas



Category: One Piece
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Non-Canon Worldbuilding, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 226,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticaas/pseuds/nauticaas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a little-known island off the North Calm Belt, a quick sidetrip for the Strawhat Pirates that becomes more than they bargained for. It could be enough to steal away one of their own forever, or it might just hold the key to Sanji's impossible dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Landing Stage

**HE**

**COULD HAVE BEEN**

**MY**

**REGRET.**

  

Sanji sets the table for nine, choosing his best for tonight's dinner. The matching tableware is delicate and beautiful; he lays each place with care and patience...until he reaches the knives. Those white-handled knives against the sea-green tablecloth make his throat tighten, his heart clench, and his vision redden like blood. Seating himself at the head of the table, he methodically snaps every last piece in the set, best china and all.

_When he considered all things in their context within his life, he couldn't say that he was all that surprised at what he found._

Like white knuckles on a blood-splattered hand clasped around the handle of the boning knife. As a recent, much-too-raw image skims the surface of his memory, he abandons the half-thawed slab of meat that night, leaving it to bleed out in the back of the fridge. He peels the wooden blade away from where the blood has dried like glue to his skin and drops it into the dirty sink water. His hand bruises, a dark splotch on his palm where the slender handle broke blood vessels under his skin; he is not usually this careless.

_A full week of smooth sailing was always cause for celebration, but with a new comrade setting off with them on their journey, they didn't even wait for things to settle down on Thousand Sunny that night. They didn't have to; the crew's high spirits carried them through a whirlwind of good food and music and merrymaking into the early hours of the morning._

Dawn hides at the horizon still an hour away, along with the murmurs and chatter of the crew's early risers. He nurses the only thing he has been allowed to nurse—a dry vintage swirling at the bottom of his glass—and hopes that they reach the next island by the end of the week. His stock of alcohol has dwindled down to rum and this cheap rosé dated back to what might have been the year of his birth. It somehow fits, he muses before downing the rest of the bitter, sharp-flavored wine. A vintage like this only comes around once in his lifetime; he only wonders if he wishes he had been old enough to enjoy it when it tasted like it was intended to or whether the poor, tainted taste suits his mood better.

_Luffy dangled from Brook's bony shoulders as they sang loud, off-tune sea shanties along to his rapid-fire playing. It was all in fun, but when he turned their wailing squawks into their very own song, it became clear that he was the musician their captain had been holding out for this whole time. The night carried the strains of their song over the waters; occasionally he thought it sounded like a the ghost of a dirge that they might have sung, had things turned out differently a few nights ago._

It breaks splendidly over the horizon in a red-white burst, expanding like a ball of light…like a bubble (he still remembers the way the Risky Brothers described it, like the sunrise had been laid out in front of them on the stone grey ruins). Right now, the sun regards him ominously, a beacon of pain. He lets the door slam and doubles over the railing before he can stop himself, and every last drop of his cheap wine comes right back up his throat. When he looks up through a film of tears, Robin and Franky are watching him from the second deck, having come over to investigate the loud noise so early in the day; their eyes are wary and questioning. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turns on his heel and retreats into the kitchen for the rest of the day. He sleeps between meals and does not open the wine cabinet again.

The beautiful, broken set of dinnerware and its pearl-handled knives join the rosé in the ocean, and he consoles himself by reasoning that they wouldn't have lasted long on this ship anyway, especially not in Luffy's hands. Lighting a cigarette between bandaged fingers, he opens up the wide windows of the galley and tries to ignore the feeling that he was drowning. It's probably his nightmares acting up again; they haven't been a problem since Arlong Park.

He wonders what has changed.

_He burned his first meal since he was eleven and still an awkward, unsure novice back at the Baratie, burned it so thoroughly that he tossed the whole pan into the rubbish bin and started over from scratch. The air in the galley was so thick and oppressive and dark that he had to open all the doors and windows just to let it clear out some. Everyone enjoyed the open air feast that evening, or so it seemed from his peeping spot at the window where he tried to salvage the blackened pan from his disgrace of a dinner, breathing in the lingering smoke like it was only another of his many cigarettes._

_Outside, his crewmates broke out into another round of singing by the end of the meal, bellies and hearts full to bursting. In the middle of a rousing rendition of "Sweetbriar-Jane's Ballad", the sharpshooter and their captain dragged him out onto the Sunny's grassy deck to treat him to a bout of their sloppy dancing. It wasn't long before he let himself be swept up in a haze of alcohol and excellent music, losing his partners and a good portion of his outfit before the night was over. No one was able to keep up with the cook's feverish dancing once he threw himself in; had the music and his legs not given out on him, he would have kept going all night. As it was he ended up flat on his back and laughing with the others, brushing sweaty hair away from his ruddy cheeks and trembling lips, and he reached for the bottle once again._

The island cannot come soon enough, and when Nami announces that they will make port by dawn, he rolls a soggy, unlit cigarette between his lips and holes himself up in the ship's stores with his inventory logs until morning, reminding himself to keep breathing in the dark, stuffy space. The air around him reverberates with the drumbeat of his heart, and he sinks down in a dusty corner with a handful of crinkled pages and just  _thinks_. When he considers these things in their context within his life, he can't say that he is all that surprised at what he finds. Blood on white knuckles, a pearl-white blade, the bubbling sunrise on a stone grey sea. A mourning song that might have been. The way he says goodbye. Him.

_Breath hitching in the back of his raw, aching throat, he buried his face in the prickly green blades of the lawn and pretended furiously that he was alright._

_Don't drown, don't drown, don't drown._

* * *

 

The port was by far one of the largest they had seen, a sprawling compound floating on the harbor with three separate docks for mooring all manner of ships. A small annex on black pontoons provided space for additional vessels and a long, thin pier lined with boats extended into the sea on the north end. In the cool sea breeze, proud Jolly Rogers fluttered against the blue dawn skyline as the telltale clang of ringing seaport bells welcomed wandering ships into the port's harbor; beyond the field of ships lay the island's main shore, lush and dark and towering. It was lovely and loud with the usual sounds that rolled off of pirate ships; it was comfortable and safe.

"You changed our course, Nami?"

Robin spared a glance out at the harbor with quiet interest, slowly turning a steaming cup of coffee around in her hands while an extra pair of hands turned the pages of the thick book that lay in her lap. Behind her, the young red-haired girl nodded silently while poring over several maps spread out on the kitchen table before her, to the dismay of the cook and their other crewmates (though he would never voice his objection to her and the others made due with eating in other corners of the room).

"Yes, we're making a detour." Nami finally looked up from her charts, looking across the galley at the windows opening up to the harbor. "Staithe Wharf; with rich, naturally occurring resources and markets big enough to resupply entire galleons, it's the almost-perfect restocking island."

"Almost perfect?" Usopp said doubtfully, trying to sneak his plate onto a corner of the paper-strewn table so he could eat properly. "What, does it have crazy wannabe gods or rotting undead corpses possessed by shadows running around?"

She gave him a look and shoved his food back into his hands. "No, it just has a lengthy customs process."

"Can't be worse than shadow-zombies," he grumbled, grabbing his plate and stalking off back to his corner (he supposed that he should just be grateful she didn't give him a lump on the head to boot). "Why are we here anyways?"

Franky and Brook looked up from where they sat on the threshold of the kitchen door in quiet conversation, balancing a tray of food each in their laps.

"Yeah, sis, what's going on?" Franky asked around a mouthful of omelette. "I thought we were heading straight for Fishman Island."

Nami began to gather up her things and cleared the table, to the crew's approval. As soon as she had moved everything away, Usopp and Chopper made a dash for the table, nearly stumbling over Zoro ("watch it, idiots") and Brook's long legs ("oh my, ohohoho!") on the way.

"There was a change of plans," Nami said simply, brushing off their scrutiny and heading to the door. "We need supplies and we're stopping here instead."

"Didn't we get enough from Lola's pirates back then?"

Nami froze.

Zoro was standing between the navigator and the door, arms crossed and face set in a neutral expression. He had a nagging suspicion that he knew what this little side trip was about, and the way Nami avoided his gaze confirmed it. The whole crew had been acting strange since he had woken up, not outright in his face but in tiny, minor ways that crawled under his skin and irritated him to the point where he had tried escaping Chopper's careful watch to go train in the crow's nest. They might know nothing, they might know everything, and the uncertainty was grating on his nerves. Now, all he wanted was for Nami to voice his suspicions so that they could get this out in the open and he could defend his actions back on the island.

"What's the real reason we're stopping here, Nami?"

"I asked Nami to map us a detour."

Everyone's heads turned at the sound of the captain's voice. Luffy was sitting on the kitchen counter at the cook's left side, making his way through a mountain of various cooked meats and sliced hams on a bed of scrambled eggs. Seeming not to notice that he had caught his crew's attention, he continued to ravenously shovel food into his mouth despite all the time Sanji had put into trying to get him to learn some table manners. When his dark eyes landed on their stares, he swallowed down half of his drink and finished his plate in one sweep.

"I already talked it over with her and told her we needed to buy important stuff and rest." His youthful face was missing its usual exuberant smile and seemed almost humorless. "Captain's orders. If anyone has a problem with it, take it up with me."

Zoro scowled but backed away, leaning against the doorjamb to stew quietly in his anger. If Nami wanted to leave the room then she would have to squeeze by him and his solid, accusing stare, even if the captain's orders shielded her from any further inquiries. No one else said a word, and a shamefaced Nami stood frozen in the middle of the room, arms clutching her maps to her chest as though to protect herself from the silence.

The click of a lighter came to her rescue, and Sanji left a trail of smoke as he moved across the room to clear away empty plates and offer seconds to those who wanted it. The dishes went into the sink in a quick movement and the frying pan came off the fire as smoothly; though he was just one person, he managed to fill the room more than any of the others.

"Luffy," he said casually as he refilled Robin's coffee. "If it bothers the meathead so much, then wouldn't it be better if we just kept going?"

Luffy grabbed a handful of bacon right off the pan and didn't even wince as the hot grease blistered his fingers. "Ouch…no, it's for his own good."

So the cook had spilled.

Zoro gritted his teeth and tried to keep his voice steady. "Whatever you've heard, Luffy, it's all lies," he growled, shooting a hateful glare at the cook, who just turned his head quietly with a muttered "shut up, idiot".

Luffy shook his head. "Zoro, Sanji, it's still my turn to talk."

His expression as he regarded all of them was still unsmiling but he didn't seem angry. It was more like he was thinking something over. The silence in the room stretched out like rubber as they waited for their captain's next words. Finally, Luffy took a deep breath and set his empty plate aside.

"I know I'm not smart."

Robin and Usopp held back a soft chuckle and they all looked at Luffy in amused bewilderment, wondering what in the world he was getting at. He smiled and held up a finger as if to ask them to keep their silence.

"I know I'm not smart," he said again, and then his voice got serious. "And I know I do things without thinking about them, and I know a lot of times you guys protect me from the consequences."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop by several degrees, and Zoro was afraid that Luffy had found out everything about Thriller Bark: his punishment, the ball of pain, all the burden of the captain. Even Sanji looked paler than usual, which was strange because Zoro was sure that he had been the one to spill everything.

Luffy's eyes bored straight through Zoro.

"I know you guys keep a lot of stuff from me, even when I'm wrong. But I don't care about that. If you thought I needed to know, then you would tell me."

He crossed his arms and frowned at all of them challengingly. "But you can't keep me from knowing when I need to let my crew rest after a hard battle. I'm your captain, and if I couldn't even give you that, after everything you've done to take care of me, then I'm worth nothing!"

Zoro's jaw dropped. He could feel the others' various reactions of disbelief around the room and wondered whether this was the same silly boy he had first met back on Morgan's marine base in the East Blue.

"That's not true, Luffy," he began hesitantly. "You know that we would tell you if we weren't okay."

"There's more than one way to be not okay." Luffy's smile was almost apologetic as he caught everyone's stunned looks. "I have to know some things to look after you guys."

"That's thoughtful of you, Luffy." Nami smiled sweetly, placing her charts on the counter to wrap her arm around his shoulders. "And strangely mature."

"I know, it's weird. I guess this is what it's like to grow up, huh?" He grinned widely and dangled his legs over the counter's edge, kicking lightly against the cupboards. Sanji, for once, was too shocked to scold him for it. "I never thought about this kind of stuff back when I first left Fushia, but now I just get a kind of feeling about stuff."

He tilted his head at the swordsman, who was studying him with a closed, somber expression. Zoro tried to return his smile, uncertain of whether he should feel relieved that Luffy wouldn't press him on the subject or not.

"Feelings are weird, aren't they Zoro?" Luffy sucked the grease off his fingers. "Kinda like this." He stuck his wet finger into Zoro's ear.

"Wha-! Luffy!" Zoro sent him flying across the room, where he collided solidly with an unfortunate Usopp.

Luffy's laughter broke the remaining tension in the room, and even a red-faced Zoro joined in with a chuckle, though he was still squirming at the wet feeling in his ear.

"Luffy, you're evil," he chuckled, throwing himself on top of the boy and wrestling him back to the ground. A strangled shout from the swordsman notified the others that Luffy had gotten him again.

"Wet willies for Zoro!" Usopp shouted to the heavens, still annoyed that Zoro had thrown Luffy at him. He stuck his finger into his mouth and jumped into the fray, with Chopper and Brook following suit quickly.

"Ew, don't be gross!" Nami said peevishly, edging away from the dogpiled pirates. "Luffy, get up from there; no, don't stick it back in."

Even Robin looked like she were getting ready to join the pile, armed with numerous extra limbs at the ready and a sadistic smile, and then Franky held up his hands and stuck them into his mouth. "Super wet willies for everyone!"

Nami managed to make it out of the galley as it erupted into horrific screams, but she lost Sanji in the chaos. Leaning against the door with a sigh of relief, she gave herself a moment to mourn him before retreating into the navigation office to marvel at the sheer depravity of her crewmates.

While she was sliding her favorite book on the Grand Line's sea current patterns into its place on the third shelf from the bottom, the navigator felt a strangely familiar sensation on her right shoulder. Her eyes widened and she shrieked, slapping one of Robin's hands away from her ear. She should  _not_  have let her guard down. "Robin, seriously; that wasn't funny!"

From the galley, Robin's soft chuckle was buried by a rain of Sanji's screams.

_"Get off, Brook! My kitchen- no, stop doing that, Chopper; Usopp, wait, are you guys for real? NO!"_

* * *

Out on the upper deck, Zoro looked out across the water at Staithe Wharf as they approached; he could hear Nami's irritated tone drifting up from the galley's open window as she scolded Luffy and the others for the breakfast mess, and he was glad that he had managed to escape in the confusion before he got roped into the cleanup.

Sanji's familiar footsteps drew close on the stairs behind him, slow and assured and steady with the gait of all long-term seafarers, and they stopped a few feet from him at the edge of the railing.

Zoro didn't take his eyes off the island, instead leaning against the railing and focusing intently on the thick forest that framed the port. "You didn't tell him."

Sanji hummed. "Faithless heathen."

He couldn't help but snort at that.

"You're no saint either." He thought about Sanji's black, narrow shoulders against the light of the sun, ready to bear and crumble under the weight of their world, and he sighed. "Thanks…you know."

But Sanji didn't know, and both of them knew it; they also knew that they were both too proud to say anything about it. "Yeah," he muttered, rolling a cigarette between his fingers. "It was nothing."

Zoro walked down the stairs to join the rest of the crew as they disembarked, out of words to say (and what could he say, really?) and Sanji watched him go, thinking about all of the things he could have said but didn't, and he wondered just why it was so hard for them to just  _talk_.

* * *

They made their way up the docks on the southern side of the harbor, leaving _Sunny_ resting sleepily between two sleek schooners. It had only been five minutes since they came to port and Nami was already starting to realize that she had seriously overestimated the ability of a nine-member crew to move through a busy port like this one, especially with a captain like theirs.

"Nami," their captain mewled pitifully as he dragged his feet through a poor sailor's mooring ropes and kicked them into the water accidently.

She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the Dockmaster's offices up ahead, ignoring the incessant tugging on her sleeve. Her determination would not flag.

Luffy tugged at the rough material stretched across his left eye, mourning the loss of his beloved hat in exchange for his makeshift eyepatch. Nami smacked him and told him to leave his disguise alone before shifting little Chopper in her purse.

"This is utterly humiliating," the reindeer whimpered, ducking down to hide in the bag. "I'm not a pet."

"Of course you aren't, darling," Nami said in a sugar-sweet voice. "Now stop talking and bark like a puppy."

"Sometimes I think you couldn't get any crueler, and then you just go and surprise me." Zoro gave Chopper a sympathetic look and ignored the glare that the navigator shot him. "It's like you level up in sadism, only for really weird humiliation."

"She has a great teacher," Robin put in helpfully, adjusting her high collar slightly and waving a mopey Sanji away from her hidden cleavage.

"Oh, that's comforting."

"Don't talk to the ladies so sarcastically, mosshead."

"Stay out of this, curlicue; I swear to God your stupid white-knighting is almost as bad as your ridiculous groveling."

"What? It's called chivalry, you backwards asshat."

"Prince Charming, more like Prince Dumbass."

_"What?"_

_"Shut UP, you blockhead idiot dingdongs!"_

Luffy grinned from under his now-blindfold. "That was a good one, Nami!"

Exasperated, the navigator adjusted his 'eyepatch' so that he could actually see. The point was to cover the scar under his left eye, anyway, so it didn't matter that it wouldn't stay around his forehead. "There, just…keep it there."

"M'kay."

Nami turned to look at the rest of the group tiredly. "Okay, I'm going to try getting us through the customs without major financial costs, okay? Don't take off your disguises; our bounties are too high to risk walking around casually in the open."

"And keep those two away from each other." She gestured rudely at Zoro and Sanji, who reluctantly moved to opposite sides of the group and glared furiously at each other to the discomfort of the others caught between the pair.

"Ah, stuck in the middle with the monkey," Usopp sighed, sinking down onto the deck with the others as the navigator left them to their own devices. It was only when he turned that statement over in his head, watching the captain swing around on Brook's lanky frame, that his own brilliance hit him. His eyes lit up, and he quickly recruited the others to join his plan.

When Nami returned with the Dockmaster, the Straw Hats were engaged in a lively game of Monkey in the Middle, with Zoro and Sanji tossing a cackling Luffy over the heads of the rest of the crew while also insulting each other as loudly as they could from where they stood, red-faced and raving. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered nearby, watching the game in confused, morbid curiosity.

"Um, inspiration struck?" Usopp offered, slowly backing away from a livid Nami.

The Dockmaster looked at them with an unruffled expression on his weathered face, and Nami and Robin quickly guided him away from the spectacle and back into the office, with the rest of the subdued pirates following sullenly.

"So, your papers appear to be in order," the man said dully, barely seeming to glance at the documents in front of them. Nami sighed inwardly; she had spent so much time forging these papers, but if he didn't bother to look for mistakes or inconsistencies then that meant there was little chance they would get caught.

"Of course, we always keep an up-to-date record of the ship and the crew in the Quartermaster's office," she lied, taking the fake papers back nervously. "Order is next to godliness, as I always say!"

"I thought it was 'cleanli- ow!" Franky retreated to his corner of the room, rubbing his arm with more petulance than actual pain. Nami's smile stretched wider.

"Mm." The man was not impressed. "Anyway, Miss…?"

"Sami Bon Vivant-Lacroix."

"Right. Like I told you earlier, all that's left is the mandatory inoculation before you can proceed to the inner city."

"Wait, inoculation?"

Chopper's head peeped out of Nami's purse, worry shining in his big brown eyes. "What kind of immunization are we talking about?"

"It's for healthcare and safety reasons solely; I have assured your Miss Vivant-Lacroix that it's perfectly routine and harmless."

Luffy picked at his nose with a frown. "Ah? What's an inoculation?"

Chopper hopped out of the bag and dodged Nami's and Robin's hands as he ran up to the Dockmaster's desk. "It's a type of vaccination…but against what?"

The man stood up and walked over to the wall opposite his desk, tapping a certain faded document that was plastered to the wall. "Around two hundred years ago, a rare virus that originated on these islands wiped out most of the population of Staithe Wharf. It was a nightmarish situation, but eventually Marine scientists came up with a vaccine that has since nearly eradicated the disease."

His gaze was calm and bored as he recited this bit of history, revealing just how little he seemed to care about it. He spoke with the air of someone who had been forced to repeat this to countless sailors and seamen over the years. "Nowadays, it's perfectly safe in the city, but strains of the virus are possibly still contained in the forests of the island, so no one is allowed in there."

The Dockmaster paused. "Shall I get one of the Port doctors to give you all the gory details?"

"No, thank you," Nami cringed, glancing down at the Straw Hats doctor. He still seemed uneasy. "It's perfectly safe, isn't it, Dockmaster?"

"Absolutely. The reports do not lie, miss." He waved a thick stack of papers in front of them. "The vaccine is just for prevention only, nothing more."

"I'll be the judge of that." Luffy narrowed his eyes and snatched the papers from the man. Without even glancing at them, he handed it down to the little reindeer. "Chopper, be the judge of this for me."

"Rude idiot," Nami growled, smacking him repeatedly across the head with her purse. "And it's Dopper, you airhead."

"Na- I mean, Sami," he whined, holding his head. "Okay, okay; Dr. Doppler, pleeee-ease be the judge of this for me?"

"Being called doctor does not make me happy, dumbass." Chopper could have danced with joy at those words, but a more pressing concern was at hand. He immediately flipped through the medical reports, furrowing his brow as he read the pages upon pages of medical jargon with an experienced, critical eye. "Just give me fifteen minutes."

* * *

Zoro and the others sat at the end of the docks, waiting for their friends to return to the ship. He stared out into the ocean, fingers tapping idly against the hilt of his swords while the tide rose in lazy, gentle waves just beneath the old wooden pier that  _Thousand Sunny_ was moored to. Behind him, he could feel the stares of the rest of the crew on his back, and he scowled. If they thought his impatience was due to concern for the four crewmates still in the offices, they were sorely mistaken; he was just annoyed by the fact that everyone was still sneaking glances at him like they thought he might vanish into thin air. What had happened after he had absorbed all of Luffy's damage?

He caught the doctor's anxious stare and his frown softened. Upsetting him was not something that Zoro wanted to do on a good day, and right now Chopper was already worried enough as it was with the island's strange customs and the so called "Staithe Eater" virus. It was probably why he had allowed Nami and the others to go through with it.

Chopper had approved of the vaccine, seeing as "the reports were sound" and he found "the experimental trials had not given a reasonable doubt as to the effectiveness and safety of the vaccination". The one problem that he'd discovered was that because of the nature of the administration of the injection, they would be exposed to trace amounts of seastone ("it occurs naturally in the reservoirs of the island where they derive the vaccine from", he had explained to the confused pirates).

Nami had immediately excluded the Devil Fruit users from the procedure; she didn't need an extensive medical background to predict what would happen to them if they underwent the vaccination.

"Out! You guys can stay behind and guard the ship while we're in the medical offices. Don't look at me like that; we'll be fine. We can handle ourselves."

Luffy had all but demanded that Zoro stay with them. "I want to play wrestling, Zoro," he had whined, and Nami had agreed with his decision.

"You guys need at least one swimmer to look after you on these docks," she reasoned as she, Usopp, Sanji, and Franky were swept out of the room and away from the others to be prepped for the inoculation. "So take good care of them, Zoro; you're our strongest."

Zoro rolled his eyes. What was she trying to do, console him for the fact that he wouldn't have to get stabbed with needles by stupid quacks parading around in white coats like they knew everything?  _Inoculation._  What these island people needed was to train themselves to resist the stupid disease.

"I know what you're thinking."

Chopper smiled with perception gleaming in his eyes, and Zoro wondered if he was really that easy to read. "I know it might not make much sense to you guys, but vaccinations are a good thing. Most people aren't naturally as strong as you, Zoro, and even you couldn't fight off a deadly virus just like that."

Curiosity had drawn the rest closer to them, even Luffy, who had taken to sulking on _Sunny's_ figurehead when Zoro had refused to play with him. The captain dropped down onto the docks with them, squeezing between Robin and Brook to get into their little circle to listen to Chopper's talk.

"A vaccination is basically a way for the body to learn to resist diseases and viruses that it couldn't handle on its own. This is the strength training for these people. It's how they get stronger."

"Wow," Luffy gasped, draping himself over Zoro's shoulders. "Chopper, you're going to make something like that for us, right?"

"I plan to do better than that," the little reindeer grinned excitedly. "I'll cure every last strain of this virus, along with all the other diseases of the world. Just you wait and see!"

They smiled at the mention of Chopper's dreams. Big dreams were one of the Straw Hats identifying characteristics, and each of them gladly and wholeheartedly supported the others' dreams. When one Straw Hat believed it, they all did, whether it was ridding the world of illness or becoming the Pirate King; it simply became fact, no questions asked.

"I'm glad to hear that, because I for one plan never to go through that again, little bro." Franky and the others were making their way down the south docks towards them, looking disheveled and unmistakably miserable. The only one who looked at all alert was the cook, and he was fuming over God knows what this time. Zoro guessed that maybe he had probably been "cheated" of some pretty blond nurse for the procedure.

"What happened?" Chopper jumped to his feet, instinctively going into doctor mode over his crewmates. "What did they do to you?"

The shipwright crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. "I don't want to talk about it."

"He got the injection into his butt." Usopp looked positively gleeful as he said it. "It was all kinds of hilarious."

"Longnose-kun nearly fainted when they gave him his shot," Franky spat back, and Usopp stuck his tongue out at him.

"Guys, please stop," Nami groaned, rubbing her arm tiredly. "I'm really sore and hungry and I just want to rest."

Robin frowned. "Are you alright?"

"The shitty doctor couldn't find her vein, the moron." Sanji was livid, rubbing absently at his own arm. "He kept stabbing her arm with the needle like it was a meat tenderizer. Seriously, even  _Luffy_  could have done a better job with the broken turkey baster and some antiseptic."

"Does that mean I can try it-?"

" _No_ ," came the unanimous response. The captain wilted immediately.

The crew followed Nami back to the ship, listening as she explained the details of the vaccination. "After a twenty-four hour period of inoculation and another thorough exam, we'll head into the city to stock up on anything and everything that we might need, got it? So don't forget to make a list of any supplies you need and give it to me; we'll take care of it once we get the okay."

They nodded in agreement, starting to discuss what they would pick up at the markets with each other. As they made their way up the gangplank, Zoro noticed that their captain was missing from the group. He looked around in bewilderment, wondering how they could have lost their loud, energetic-

The others noticed that Zoro had stopped halfway up the gangplank and looked in the direction he was staring in. One of the pirates from the large brig several ships down talking to the boy on the docks. They were gesturing grandly, and Luffy was getting visibly excited. Soon, pirates from the other ships began to join them on the wooden planks, and the Straw Hats sighed, preparing themselves for another battle ("come on, we just got here").

Then, the conversation stopped abruptly, and their captain walked quickly back to _Thousand Sunny_ , the crowd of pirates parting in a path just for him.

Luffy leapt up onto the figurehead and turned around to face his crew with a great big grin on his face. "Guys, we are going to a feast tonight! And there's going to be lots of meat!"

 


	2. The hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demons are a strange but human pirate group with one very simple request, and the Straw Hats' cook is all too happy to fulfill it.
> 
>  
> 
> (Or the time when Sanji's childhood trauma showed how deep it runs.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Blood, gore (kinda), and mentions of cannibalism. In my outline and my word docs, this is the chapter that I fondly titled "Sanji is not okay".

Between the twenty-four hours of customs process and the queue of ships leaving the harbor, there was a lot of waiting around to do on Staithe Wharf.  The monotony of long delays and quiet days on the peaceful port was usually broken up by endless nights of feasting. The locals of the island's outer city allowed the pirates their festivities and even indulged in them—happy, complacent outlaws were better than restless ones, in the long run, even if sometimes they had to break up a few fights.

"They have the manpower to do it; there are always Inner City sentries posted at the towers on the border and they see everything."

If they ever caught whiff of trouble stirring on the docks, they were upon the port like lightning, swiftly ending the troublemakers before anything could happen.

It had only gotten to that point once.

Luffy scratched at his ear idly, and to anyone who didn't know him it might have seemed like he wasn't paying attention, but Nami could tell that the distracted look in his eyes was mostly superficial; if it ever came down to it, he would be ready to handle whatever danger came their way. She looked attentively at the pirate captain speaking to them, to reassure him that his advice wasn't going unheeded.

"They overlook us as long as we don't flash our piracy around and stay out of trouble." Captain Thaddeus of the Lathos Pirates took off his tricorne and turned it over in his hands, frowning slightly. "You can't wear things like this in the Inner City, not if you want to pass as a civilian."

"Those bastards!" Luffy exclaimed, suddenly very focused on the conversation. "Who do they think they are?"

From the helm of the Sunny, Franky resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Oh, come on, Luffy. Can you really not handle a few hours without that old hat?"

Luffy's eyes were round and wide, as though he could not fathom that one of his own could say such a thing. "Franky, I trusted you."

"You've obviously never heard the story of how he got that thing," Zoro put in helpfully from his post at his captain's side, holding the young man up from his near swoon. "Luffy, calm down, please."

"Aye, lad; a captain's hat is his pride and a sign of his prestige." Thaddeus stood up and placed the hat back on his head with a long, hard look at Franky before leaving. "Don't underestimate its importance; to do so is to severely disrespect that honor."

He turned to the rest of the group and bowed his head slightly. "Captain, we'll speak again sometime, I hope."

"M'kay." Luffy waved at the man without his usual cheer, although Zoro didn't have to hold him steady anymore.

Franky sighed as Thaddeus walked away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." The shipwright leaned over the edge of the ship and waved down to the captain. "Luffy, how about you tell me about your hat?"

The Straw Hats captain brightened, and he launched himself at Franky, nearly knocking them both into the water. "Yay, you're going to love this story! It's the most defining moment of my life, next to the time I spent with my brothers growing up, and the time that old Gramps threw me into the forest-"

"Gee, now I'm really sorry I said anything," Franky muttered under his breath, and Nami and Zoro shared a knowing grin. It was likely that Luffy would talk the shipwright's ear off, right up to tonight's dinner and celebrations. They pitied him but certainly weren't going to save him from what he had brought on himself.

"It'll be good for him to know the story anyway," Nami whispered, taking her newspaper out of her bag and settling in for the longwinded tale. "Brook should listen, too. I don't think he's heard it yet."

Luffy would have kept going through a second retelling of the story when Brook showed up, to Franky's growing despair (his unrelated tangents made the story longer than necessary, although he was morbidly fascinated with the details of his captain's chaotic upbringing), but just then the captain found a new distraction in the form of the feast preparations.

"Guys, look at that sea king! It's huge!"

Luffy clambered onto the Sunny's railing and gestured excitedly at the great pale green beast that one of the pirate groups was bringing forth from the other side of the harbor. The others could already see their captain salivating at the thought of eating it at the feast.

"It looks so tasty," he moaned longingly and grabbed his stomach. "I wish we could eat it now."

"Be patient," Nami said, standing up and walking closer to the main boardwalk where the preparations were taking place. "Everyone's doing the best that they can right now."

The pirate crews had formed a loose alliance over the matters regarding the feast, with the strongest of their men fighting down the sea kings and other prey that would form the main courses, and now the cooks were diligently working on getting everything ready to cook and serve that evening. They worked at a furious pace as the meat kept coming in, scaling, gutting, and slicing everything up into manageable parts for a second group of cooks to season and prepare. Somewhere within the frantic bustle and chatter, helping with the organization of the whole affair, was their own cook.

His blue hooded sweatshirt came into view, and then Sanji's voice carried out over the noise as he directed another kill onto one of the tarps laid out on the docks. They couldn't hear what he was saying. but he looked pleased with the catch, a fine blue-and-silver-finned sea king with sleek scales that shimmered in the sunlight. A wide grin spread across his face.

"Do you like that one, Sanji?" Luffy bellowed, waving his arms over his head and nearly catching Franky across the head. "We caught it just for you!"

"You shitty bastards; you're going to like it even more when we're done with it!"

He rolled up his sleeves and called over several of the cooks to help him, and they started on the beast with tireless vigor and skilled hands. They talked and joked with each other as they worked, and it was like seeing a whole different side of Sanji. The crew had seen him cook alone in their kitchen countless times, but his interactions with the other cooks were certainly new—and very refreshing. It was something like the Baratie, where barbed insults and full out aggressions were the norm between the cooks, but out here Sanji had nothing to prove, and no reason to be defensive. He shared a smirk with the brown haired pirate on his left and they all burst out laughing at something that one of the others said.

Nami folded her arms over her chest and smiled softly, her newspaper hanging limp and forgotten in her hand. "Don't you think it's funny that we'd never see him talking like that on the ship? Like he's got nothing to hide at all."

Luffy made a noncommittal noise and let his legs swing lazily over the railing, but Zoro was silent. He stared at the pirate cooks with an intensity that burned in his gaze, hoping that the shit-cook could feel it bore into his back.

The cool crisp air rang with Sanji's laugh.

 

* * *

 

Nami had retreated to her bedroom, and Usopp and Franky lay sprawled over the couch and settee, respectively; the mid-afternoon hour had brought a sudden bout over the inoculated members of the crew. Brook and Robin helped Chopper get them settled in comfortable positions before he ordered them to a strict bed rest until he was satisfied with their condition.

"They're probably adjusting to the vaccine," he said thoughtfully, taking the thermometer from Nami's mouth and checking the reading. Her temperature wasn't even close to a fever, which came as a great relief to the doctor. "Let's just stay on the safe side and keep them in bed for now.

Of course, that was easier said than done when it came to the cook.

Zoro leaned against the door frame of the Sunny's galley, watching him wash up the knife set he had used all morning on the docks. The handles were black, and he vaguely remembered a pale white set that he had seen the cook use before; he had thought that Sanji preferred to use it instead. In fact, he hadn't seen any of the white handled pieces that the cook normally used.

"I'm busy, mosshead; if you want someone to annoy, go stick your head in the ocean and I'm sure your marimo kin will be happy to talk to you." His voice had a tremble in it that, despite the care he took to speak steadily, betrayed his exhaustion and discomfort.

"You heard the doctor's orders, idiot cook. Are you trying make yourself pass out?"

Sanji snorted. "Oh, you're one to talk, musclehead. I already told you that I feel fine."

Zoro had half-decided that he would just knock the idiot out again. It was only the memory of his face back on the island, hurt and betrayed as unconsciousness darkened his vision, that made him hold back.

"You're always like this," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to make up his resolve. One well placed hit would do it, and then he could drag his sorry ass to the men's quarters. Why was this so hard to do a second time? "You keep pushing yourself too far, and one day you won't be coming back."

Sanji took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before turning around to face him sharply.

"At least when I don't come back, it'll be because I've already planned for it!" Sanji's face was red and furious; he was practically shaking in anger. It was amazing how he had gone from cool and annoyed to livid in the span of a second. "You, on the other hand, really have no concept of human limits or the finality of death. It's like you think you're invincible."

The cook gave a short, rough bark of a laugh and rounded on Zoro, dropping the knives into their slots in their storage block.

"It's too bad your sense of direction is shot, because someday you'd probably get it into your stupid head that you could carry the whole damn ship to Raftel for Luffy. That's how much you know about where your limits lie."

"No, I actually know where my _goals_ are," he corrected, pushing off the wall and walking calmly towards the cook. "And I wouldn't let something like _human limits_ stand in my way; that's the difference between you and I."

Sanji had gone white as a sheet, and he retreated from Zoro's reach, seeming to anticipate what the swordsman was planning to do. He leaned against the counter heavily and looked away. "Shut up or leave, now."

"Does it hurt to hear the truth?"

"I said _shut up_!"

Sanji slammed his hand down on the countertop, surprising both Zoro and himself. He seemed to recover quickly and withdrew into his anger.

"You can preach at me all you want about pushing myself too far, but the _truth_ is that you're just a hypocrite." His eyes were narrowed and glaring under his messy bangs, and every inch of him screamed hatred and hostility. Pointing a shaking finger at the swordsman, he seemed to gain strength from Zoro's shocked expression, and the words began to pour out of his mouth.

"You're nothing but a big, fat _brute_ of a hypocrite; don't pretend that you're better than me. I don't have to hear _bull_ from you so get out of my face before I plant a foot through all your self-righteous shit, _bastard_."

"Maybe I wouldn't be such a hypocrite to you if you grew out of your own self-pity and stopped trying to make people feel sorry for you. Because guess what? It's worked so far with me."

The cook couldn't seem to believe what he had just said (and to be honest, he couldn't believe it himself). He stormed past Zoro and out of the galley, letting the door slam with such force that the frame rattled.

Zoro fumed, and he put his fist right through the wall separating the galley from the smaller sitting area on the main deck. Robin, Brook and Luffy looked at him through the hole in the wall, but he didn't even glance at them as he stomped to the door and threw it open again.  
  
"And if Luffy ever asked me to, you can bet I'd carry this thing to Raftel _and_ back, you shithead coward!"

 

* * *

 

Zoro's anger had ebbed by the time he found the cook out on the docks near the Dockmaster's offices, curled up into himself on the edge of the pier (and he had not gotten lost; the walkways had obviously been moved since he last came this way, dammit). Sanji's soft, even breathing gave away his unconscious state; sleep had smoothed away all the angry, tired lines on his pale face, and Zoro wondered when he had last gotten any real rest. He had never seen him look so thoroughly spent and on the brink of exhaustion. Slowly, he walked closer and reached a hand out to touch his shoulder.

"He asked us not to let you near him."

Zoro blinked in surprise, and he turned around to see some of the cooks who had been working at Sanji's side all day. They looked at him expectantly, stances tense and ready for a fight.

So it had come to this. His chest felt tight and he thought that he would scream his head off at the sheer stupidity of this whole thing. Sanji would have known that these sea cooks, as strong and fearless as they were, had nothing on him; he could finish them in a matter of seconds without even drawing one sword. _But it's the fact that he asked them to keep me away…_

Defeated, he lowered his hand and stepped back, and the men moved protectively around Sanji. Swallowing back his anger, he turned around and headed back down the docks in search of the Sunny, trying to ignore the bitter taste left in his mouth.

It hadn't hurt, not really.  


* * *

 

By the early evening, only an hour away from the feast, Nami and the others were back on their feet and as healthy as ever. Their impromptu afternoon nap had done them a lot of good, apparently; healthy color had returned to their cheeks and they were bright-eyed with energy and strength. Chopper couldn't have been happier with the results of their checkups.

"I guess we just needed a little rest and time to adjust," Nami said over a cup of hot tea, looking across the table at the others.

They had all woken up with a ferocious thirst and drank it like it was the last cola in the desert, as Franky put it. Usopp had already downed his cup and was on his second, while Sanji happily provided several kettles of the bitter black tea, not discriminating between his Nami-swan and the others, for once. Two empty pitchers of water sat on the counter behind them, and the others were starting to worry that at the rate they were going, their bladders would burst before they even felt the need to go to the bathroom.

Luffy chatted happily with them at the table, pleased that his crew was awake and ready for a long night of feasting on the sea kings they had helped to catch and prepare.

"Meat, meat, meat, we're having lots of yummy, tasty meat," he sang, and Brook immediately drew out his violin, joining him in a quick, made-up chorus consisting mostly of the phrases "we’re having meat" and "I want it all"; the musician eloquently named it "Luffy's Theme".

The Booster Shot Four, as the crew had taken to refer to their inoculated members, did have to make an emergency trip to the bathroom before they left the ship, to everyone's amusement. Nami had gotten the first turn, though even Sanji almost said to hell with chivalry in his desperation. Luffy and Chopper had burst into helpless giggles as they wriggled nervously outside the bathroom ("I know that one; Ace called it the pee-pee dance!"), and even Zoro cracked a smile at that comment.

Out on the docks, they joined the other groups on the central platform where they had set up as much food and drink as they could manage. Many of the crews had to sit on the adjacent boardwalks and some had drawn out their smaller boats onto the harbor for more room to sit. The cool night air was cut through by the heat flowing off of the great bonfire raft they had anchored to the center of the harbor, and smoke billowed up in huge orange-and-grey clouds against the black sky. All along the walkways, someone had lit up torches in a path to the center of their gathering; even Zoro couldn't get lost in this setup, Usopp had said jokingly, earning himself a good thump over the head.

Luffy had gone wild at the sight of the piles of food, and easily found himself a spot nearest the banquet tables, where he was likely to spend the entirety of the night gorging himself on everything he could lay his hands on. Then the sound of a violin warming up pierced the din, and the pirates threw themselves into the celebration without hesitation.

"These guys are really something," Franky grinned, tearing into a new steak with nearly as much enthusiasm as their captain. "I've never seen so many different pirate crews getting along like this, and not even for an alliance."

Robin looked up from the wine swirling at the bottom of her glass. "The locals said it's a sort of truce that everyone agrees to when they enter these waters. I suppose it makes sense, being so close to the Red Line…"

Usopp frowned thoughtfully. "Kinda like 'everything is about to try to kill us even more, so let's not fight?'"

Franky laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit, Longnose!"

"I don't really think that was a proper response to my question."

Zoro tuned them out and downed another cup of rum, slamming it down before looking around for another bottle. The table he sat at was disappointingly lacking in the way of alcohol, but he didn't really want to separate from his crew; a truce it might have been, but pirates could be nasty, underhanded fiends when it suited them. Which was most of the time, anyway.

The Straw Hats' cook set a bottle down in front of him, and Zoro looked up with a start. Sanji was staring straight into his eyes when he addressed not the swordsman, but the sniper at his side.

"It's an undiluted flask of sake, stored in cedar and with a rich, full-bodied flavor. Let him know that I think he'll like the strong, earthy taste, Usopp?"

The young man looked like he didn't know what to make of the situation, glancing between his two crewmates frantically.  "Um….yeah, okay. But why don't you just-ask-him-okay-just-walk-away, that's cool too."

Zoro scowled and opened the flask angrily, daring Usopp to say anything. The sniper took one look at him and edged closer to Robin and Franky for safety.

"Smart move," the swordsman growled, throwing down a full cup before directing his fury at the cook, who had already moved to the other side of the platform. So he was still mad, huh? That was too bad, because Zoro _had_ gone to talk to him and make things up, except the little shit cook had left him _other_ idiot cooks as _guard dogs_. If he refused to talk with him, that was fine. He didn't care anymore.

He took another drink straight from the bottle and paused after the second gulp. That stupid Curlicue knew him too well. "…it's good."

Usopp smiled weakly, wondering if he should risk talking to him and figuring out what was going on between him and Sanji. As he had mustered up the courage to ask the swordsman to pass the salt (What? He had to ease into the conversation first!), a loud commotion from the other side of the pier caught their attention.

For several moments, all of them were silent, oblivious to the merriment continuing on around them. Franky was the one who voiced what they were all thinking.

"Those guys look like _demons_."

 

* * *

 

Sanji had done his best to avoid the shitty mosshead all evening, and with the party in full swing, it wasn't actually that hard. He fixed the lapels of his new suit, straightened his gold tie and white shirt, and stepped out onto the floor with a loaded tray fresh from the grill, moving easily between tables and rowdy, drunken pirates who couldn't stay upright anymore. Somewhere in that mess, he knew Nami was probably out-drinking them all and outwitting them of their money as well. He grinned to himself at the thought of how happy she would be at the end of the night (and she would be looking absolutely adorable because of that).

Luffy had caught him a few times and dragged him out to dance when he wasn't waiting on tables, but for the most part he had been at work at the grill or on the floor refilling empty pitchers and platters. Looking out across the crowded platforms and walkways, he located Zoro and the others at one of the main tables, still going at the food like they might never eat again.

_Out on the ocean, that might actually be the case someday._

He shook his head of those dangerous thoughts and returned to the grill, where he took over for Mikolo, and the sea cook gave him a grateful smile, leaving to sit down and eat something.

"Have some of the swordfish at your captain's table; the flavor is supposed to be exquisite."

Turning his attention to the food, the cook tried to keep his thoughts away from Zoro, but all he had been able to think about was him. Their argument in the galley earlier had really shaken him up, because it confirmed what he had learned back in Thriller Bark, and in the weeks that had followed. Sanji brought a hand to his temple and rubbed his head wearily, pushing away the image of Zoro's white handled blade lying abandoned on the broken stone ruin that remained of the island ship after their battle.

He couldn't face the thought of it anymore. _It wasn't fair_. They were pirates, they were  _comrades_ , but Zoro wasn't supposed to make him feel this much. He wasn't supposed to feel this much, and Sanji didn't know how to make it right. And the worst of it was that he knew he could never affect the swordsman as much as Zoro affected him.

All he could do was avoid him and wish that Zoro felt  _something_ , even if it was just anger and confusion.

"It's pretty much what I've been feeling this whole time, at any rate," he grumbled to himself, letting the sound of Brook's violin wash over him. The musician had set up with some of the other musically inclined pirates, and though they had a mixed bag of very different instruments, they managed to get a fine sea melody going together. The strong rhythm had brought most of the pirates to their feet, and many still held a sloshing tankard in their hands as they danced around on the largest free platform left on the docks. The cook nodded his head along to "Tommy-Juun's Hanging" and marveled at the way that the Straw Hats' musician could make a violin sound so lively and festive. It made him want to get back out on the floor, but he knew that Luffy would be around to drag him out for the next round soon enough.

There was a clamor from one of the piers on the northern end of the port, and Sanji looked up from the food he was cooking.

"A new ship?" he muttered to himself, echoing the puzzled murmurs from the pirates nearby. At this hour, any ship would have trouble coming into a port like this one; it was surrounded by several obstacles that made navigating the waters a delicate operation. Had they used the light of the bonfires to find the harbor?

They were large, muscular men, all of them well over six feet tall, with inky black hair pulled back into topknots or just hanging down their backs in braids. Heavy furs and clothes covered their solidly built frames, and what little skin was exposed had been painted in deep, vivid colors and intricate designs. Beneath the hues and dyes, their eyes were pitch black and fathomless; the effect was a terrifying, almost demonic look.

Their demeanor didn't help much, either. They walked as though they were planning to walk into a battlefield, not a feast. Sanji left the grill to one of the other cooks and began to make his way over casually, scanning the crowds for his crew.

They were still seated at the table, to his relief, but he knew that if there was a fight coming on, Luffy would gladly throw the whole crew into the mess without a second thought. If there was anything he loved as much as food, it was a good fight, and the new pirate crew looked like strong, interesting opponents. He dearly hoped it wouldn't come to that, he thought, glancing furtively at Zoro.  _It's too soon…_

Sanji stepped closer to the cooks gathering on the boardwalk that was directly parallel to the one that held the newcomers, tucking his hands into his pockets and letting his shoulders slump into a hunch.

"What's going on?"

The Lathos cook looked over his shoulder. "Oh, it's you, Sanji. It's kind of a delicate situation right now; they actually don't speak the Common, and no one understands their tongue."

He glanced at the men standing before two of the pirate captains, speaking a strange, guttural language that he had never heard before. They sounded angry, and the captains didn't seem to be holding up well in front of them.

"Does anyone know what they want?" he asked, thumb flicking over his lighter. He would probably have enough cigarettes to last him the night if the fight broke out, but tomorrow's nicotine withdrawal would be hell. "We have more than enough food for them, if your captains want to let them in."

"That's not the problem; they actually  _brought_  food to cook with them."

"And?" He was waiting for the last piece to click into place so he could see the whole picture. "There are over fifty sea cooks out here, and good ones at that. Let them in."

Mikolo shook his head. "They won't let just anyone touch it, and we've never been able to understand what they're trying to tell us."

Sanji's gaze flickered across the pirate group across from them, slowly singling out the leader. His face was barely visible underneath the fur-lined hat he was wearing. "You speak like you've seen them before."

"Yeah," the brown-haired man said nervously. "They come here every so often, and it hasn't ended well once. It's like they're waiting for something from us."

He looked back only to find empty air. "Sanji?"

Sanji sensed the tension in the air before he even saw the pirate's hand move; his fights with Zoro, as well as his battles  _alongside_  him, had taught him to know that much. The two pirate captains had gone pale when the giant man reached for the blade tucked into his belt and backed away, ready to call out a warning to the others, but Sanji slipped in past them and stopped in front of the large group.

"Easy, no need for it, captain." Sanji held his hands up peaceably and gestured to the meat the new pirate crew carried. "This is a peaceful gathering, and we'd be more than happy to have you join us; I'm sure you wouldn't want this food to go to waste."

The leader stared at him with piercing black eyes, and he couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine. He didn't understand him, or worse, he had misunderstood him. Had he acted too thoughtlessly by putting himself in the middle of this conflict?

The man removed his hat slowly, tucking it under his belt alongside the sword, and he turned around to grab the carcass of the animal they had brought with them. Then, with his bare hands, he tore a hole into its side and ripped the heart out of the chest cavity, showering the boardwalk with blood. Sanji didn't look down at the splatter he knew would be at his feet.

The captain turned back to him, and he began to understand just why the other pirates had looked so frightened. His face was a harsh mask of paint and blood, with dark, charcoal smudges outlining his darker eyes. There was something about the way he loomed over Sanji that was menacing, even if he wasn't holding a bloody heart in his hands.

Alright, he had to stay calm; surely he could figure out a way to communicate with them. Covering his ears, he shook his head furiously and pointed at the man's mouth. "I don't understand," he frowned, hoping that they realized that their words meant nothing to his ears (the same could be said about his words to them). One of his hands drifted up to his throat and he twirled two fingers before his mouth, indicating speech. "Does one of your men speak the Common?"

He didn't realize that he had spoken in his first language until he felt the weight of the group's stares on him. Recognition lit up the man's dark expression, and the pirate captain motioned to one of his men, who immediately moved to stand by his side.

" _Nord_." His low, rough voice stressed the word, and he pointed straight at Sanji as he conferred with his subordinate quickly, leaving the cook to wonder if he was about to lose his head for what he had said.  _I really hope they don't have anything against my birth language._

The pirate glanced at his leader before speaking to Sanji.

"You are from Blue-in-North," he said inquiringly, his accent thick but heavily formal.

Sanji couldn't help the grin that spread across his face; this was the first time since he was a boy that he heard his native tongue spoken by someone other than himself. He tugged at the brim of his cap lightly to give his anxious fingers something to do, afraid that he might embarrass himself by blurting out the first question on his mind:  _do you know about Vonefj _ø_ en?_

"Yes, I am." Betraying none of his inner excitement, he gave a nod in the direction of the captain and the rest of the men, still holding their prey up and waiting in the rear. "Are you all from there as well?"

The man shook his head, making the silver jewelry in his ears catch the light of the torches along the path. "I lived there some winters, and I taught the rest just enough to recognize your tongue."

The cook wanted to ask the man about his time in North Blue, and if he remembered traveling the islands that Sanji used to call home, but he restrained himself. Maybe there would be time for it later, he hoped, and maybe he hadn't just thrown away a rare opportunity like this. Breathing deeply enough to squash down his dismay, Sanji addressed the current matter at hand.

"What does your crew want here? We have plenty of food to share, and any of the cooks would be happy to prepare your meat."

"Leader offers the beast's soul," he gestured at the heart held in the captain's hands. Alright, "soul" meant "heart". Easy enough. "Not a one of your life bearers has accepted it."

"Life bearers?" Sanji wrinkled his brow, glancing back at the pirates hovering nearby on the other boardwalks. They were more like 'life takers' than 'life bearers'. "None of these men really qualify as 'bearers of life', to be honest."

The man raised his white-painted brows inquiringly. "Those who make your foods, they bear the burden of your lives out on the ocean, yes?"

"Oh, you meant the cooks?" He considered the man's words and nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose you could put it that way. Anyhow, if it's a gift you're offering, I'll definitely accept it."

He held his hands out with a polite grin, already running possible recipes through his mind. He could cook a heart; it wasn't that different from what he did with his food, using up as much of the animal as he could without waste. Pointing at the fire on the main platform, Sanji asked him how they would usually cook the meat.

The leader scowled and shook his head, thrusting the bloody organ into his hands and sharply pointing at his own mouth, eyes flashing dangerously. His crewmate looked impassively at Sanji.

"You misunderstand; the soul must be consumed before the life bearer prepares the flesh."

Oh.  _Oh._

This was the moment to back out; he knew his crew was making their way over to back him up, tensed to fight. He didn't have to do this, this revolting, disgusting thing, even if his refusal would just drag everyone into a long, drawn out fight that they really weren't ready for, not right now.

He thought about what Zeff would say, his gruff, scolding tone as he gave him a good upbraiding for even thinking about eating the raw meat rife with potential diseases; and then he thought about Zoro, not speaking to him nor criticizing him, just looking at him pityingly for being so weak that he would let his friends fight over a piece of  _meat_.

And then he looked up at the captain's eyes, challenging and wild as his hand hovered over the hilt of his blade, and Sanji brought the heart up to his mouth and bit down.

* * *

"What is Sanji doing?"

Usopp watched the interaction unfold on the pier with worry, hoping his friend wasn't about to get himself killed.

"It looks like he's about to get himself killed."

Usopp glared at Franky, who just shrugged and continued eating; their captain hadn't stopped and he wasn't about to let the boy finish off the banquet table alone. Beside him, Nami and Robin chatted over identical desserts, chuckling at the antics of the drunken men trying to earn their attention on the dance floor and failing to notice that a giddy Chopper was making off with their cake.

Zoro rolled his eyes. "If that's what he wants to do, then let him. No skin off my back."

Nami glanced over briefly before waving it off as the usual rivalry between the two men. They fought every chance they got, even in battle. Besides, she thought, there was the matter of finding out what happened to her delicious looking Chiffon cake; the navigator shot a suspicious look at the doctor, who ducked down behind Zoro.

Usopp continued on obliviously.

"You know, you and Sanji have been acting really weird all day. What's going on?"

Zoro ignored the sniper and returned to his bottle. "The shit-cook is always acting weird. Just leave him alone; he can  _obviously_  take care of himself."

Chopper looked concerned, or as much as he could manage while his mouth was crammed with a variety of sugared flowers he had stolen off the giant cake in the middle of the table. "Do you think we should go back him up, just in case? Those guys look really scary."

"No, guys; I think he's fine." Usopp sounded relieved as he sank back into his chair. "He's just going to  _oh my God, that guy just ripped the dead animal's heart out_   _with his bare hands_."

Zoro glanced up with a frown, and Nami followed his line of sight back to the cook. He was still standing there, gesturing at the feast as though he intended to let those pirates join them. They were violent and hostile, and it didn't even look like they could communicate well with Sanji.  _He really doesn't know when to stop, does he?_

"Let's go," she said, and Zoro stood up, dropping his empty sake bottle and scooping his reluctant captain off the table. "Time to rescue Prince Airhead."

They had reached the second platform on the far side of the gathering, and Zoro had a clear view of the pair in the center of it. If he timed his move carefully, he could cut off any attack that was directed at the cook and cut down the pirates' leader in the process. As he reached for his sword, Luffy grabbed his wrist tightly.

"Wait." The captain tilted his head and watched them curiously. "I wanna see what happens."

Nami shook Luffy by the shoulders and snapped at him. "What, are you waiting to see how badly he's going to get beaten? Because that's the only thing I-"

She fell silent, her eyes widening in shock. Behind her, Usopp gagged and looked away.

Sanji was tearing viciously at the slick, dark red heart in his hands, mouth red and panting as he ate it with a methodical pattern. He paused and breathed hard through his nose, a tremor running over his shoulders nearly imperceptibly; anyone who didn't know his mannerisms would have overlooked it completely.

They should have done something to stop this and spare Sanji the ordeal of finishing the whole thing, but none of them could bring themselves to move. Speechless, Nami wondered if Sanji's eyes had always been that blue and bright or if it was just the contrast of the crinsom blood coating his cheeks and face.

There was a dark, hungry look in Sanji's eyes now, and he was no longer shaking as he ripped the flesh apart with his teeth like knives. Only the strange pirate crew's rumbling mutters filled the night underneath the sounds of squelching bites and ravenous chewing, and then the docks fell silent.

He had finished.

The captain looked at him for what seemed like hours, eyes glittering viciously, and then he began to walk away. His men then stepped up, bringing the carcass forth to place it at Sanji's feet. When a couple of the cooks hesitantly tried to approach, they growled and kept them away with a threatening motion at their weapons.

"It's only for him to prepare," Chopper muttered quietly from Zoro's side. "They aren't going to let any of the others touch it."

"Because he ate that thing's heart?" Nami whispered, and the sniper stifled another retch, groaning lowly as he held his head.

"Would you not talk about it, please?"

Everyone remained motionless, afraid to do or say anything that might upset the strange, rough pirate crew that was making a space for themselves on the port docks. Some of the other pirate captains, however, had an sharp gleam in their eyes, like they had finally figured out a long unsolved puzzle. Nami noticed Luffy's acute gaze on them, expression closed and indiscernible in the flickering firelight, but decided not to ask about it. She didn't want to be the one to break the silence anyway.

Instead, she just soaked in the sight before him; not because she wanted to, but because she knew that she would never forget it.

That image remained etched in her memory: Sanji standing tall and straight-backed against the fire-illuminated sky, jaw and hands dripping with still steaming blood, teeth stained red and bright, and his blue eyes burning like fire.

* * *

The shock of realization that  _yes, he was actually doing this_ buffered his reaction to the taste and texture of the sinewy meat, and he barely noticed the blood dribbling out of his mouth and down his chin, warm and sticky. He managed to do this a second time before his keen sense of taste kicked in and he almost gagged, throat clenching up in protest. Breathing heavily through his nose, he fought to regain control of himself, and the captain's gaze hardened before him in disapproval. Sanji let his vision clear up and then swallowed hard, feeling the mass slide down his throat slowly.

He didn't know how he was supposed to do this again, and again, until it was all gone, but the man was waiting for him to continue, a hand idly tapping the sword at his side. Sanji had half a mind to just give up and throw himself onto the pirate's blade; anything was preferable than forcing himself to take another bite out of this.

_It's still food, you know...just uncooked. Do you really want this to all go to waste along with that fresh meat they caught?_

He remembered a time when he would have killed (and he had been so close to it too) just for a scrap of an old man's withered, raw meat, when this steaming piece of flesh would have seemed like the most beautiful sight to his sunken eyes.  _What would it taste like_ , the boy had asked himself, on a barren rock in the middle of the unforgiving ocean,  _eaten right off his bones, piece by piece? Would it be dry or tough, or would it just go down nearly flavorless?_

He never learned what the old man's flesh tasted like, thankfully, but the forbidden question remained buried in a deep, secret part of him, and though this was no human meat, the raw, full flavor awakened a memory of a feral, starved child's last coherent thoughts, desperate and painful in their honesty. It horrified and thrilled him.

Before he realized what he was doing, Sanji began to eat with actual, urgent hunger, no longer a full grown man struggling over a hunk of raw meat in just another port; he was nine years old and feasting on an old pirate's still steaming heart, his first full meal in months, and it tasted sweet.

Blood coated his arms all the way up to the elbows, where it had dribbled down while he brought the meat to his face over and over, and he felt it smear all over his face, hot and wet and falling onto his chest. His new shirt was definitely ruined, but he would lament that after he returned to the Grand Line, exhausted and troubled.

Right now, he was on a desert island somewhere in the East Blue, with eighty-five days of starvation on him, and he had just eaten his fill, and he was  _alive_.

* * *

The newcomers had settled in comfortably on the pier, and though no one wanted to come near them, they had somehow returned to what could almost be considered normalcy. At least, they hadn't completely lost their urge to indulge in the evening's festivities. Brook struck up a chord, and then music filled the air again, soothing over the remaining tension easily.

The Straw Hats watched their cook from the table they occupied; only Luffy was still shoveling food into his mouth, albeit at a slowing pace. Usopp couldn't even look at the food on the table, sitting with his back to it as he stared into a glass of water he held in his lap. It seemed that the heart-eating exhibition had left him feeling a little faint of heart, so to speak.

Sanji appeared on the edge of their platform, arms laden with several large trays of freshly cooked food, and even had one skillfully balanced on his head; his steps were not slow but deliberate as he crossed the docks. The bloodstained clothes were gone, exchanged for a darker, well-fitted suit that let him blend nearly seamlessly with the night.

He approached the pirates quietly, sinking to his knees to lay the trays out before the foreigner and his men. The man looked at the food he was presented with and tore a good chunk out of the leg, shoving it at the cook who accepted it and ate it, already knowing that it was safe to eat.

He had Sanji taste-test every single dish, some of them twice just for his own assurance. Usually the cook would take offence at the mere suggestion that he would ever tamper with food, but he knew that to this captain, who couldn't even communicate with any of the pirates on this island, let alone the man he was entrusting with his meal, this was just a means to protect himself and his crew. Washing down the food with a swig of the pirates' rum, he indicated that the test was over.

The pirate captain glared at him, and the cook gazed back at him coolly, though he was desperately craving a cigarette by this hour. Then the captain nodded, a cue for the others to help themselves. Sanji backed away with a hidden smile, and he caught the second-in-command's approving look.

"Although you might not realize it, he is pleased."

"Trust me, the pleasure was mine." Sanji wondered if it was just the alcohol or the food that glutted his stomach, but he was feeling so exhausted. Then again, it had been a long day. He sank down next to the man and closed his eyes for a moment. "Where are you from, anyway? We've barely met, and yet I just ate a heart fresh from a giant exotic beast for your captain and shared a full course meal with you."

The pirate's eyes glowed brilliant and wide in his painted face, reflecting the orange glow of the bonfires in the night. Sanji was struck by the fact that his eyes were light in comparison to those of his crewmates, and he made a note to ask him about that later, along with his time spent in North Blue. He glanced at his captain almost furtively before shrugging his shoulder at the cook. "My name is Balkos, first mate to our captain Khalashtrogos of the Red Line, and every one of us was born in our Qohar's lands." He took a long drink from the flask in his hand, then offered it to Sanji. The cook took it gratefully and tried to wash away the sweet, coppery taste lingering in his mouth even after all the other food he had eaten.

Balkos gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I apologize, but beyond that I cannot say."

"It's fine," Sanji grinned, holding his hand up in understanding. "Secret of the state, huh?"

Seeing the confusion on the man's face, he quickly backtracked. "It's…um, never mind. I'm Sanji, by the way."

From the other end of the docks, Zoro watched the cook flit around the pirate crew the entire evening, darting back and forth to bring them piles of fresh food and drink when they asked for it. He didn't care if the cook was willing to bend over backwards to please that rabble of pirates; Curlybrow had always had a soft spot for the hungry, especially raggedy men with dangerous temperaments, as he had demonstrated back at the Baratie. But Luffy had trusted Zoro with the crew's safety and lives, and even though he found the cook annoying, he would do anything to protect him. Right now, he was carefully watching the captain, eyes narrowed in suspicion as the fearsome pirate scrutinized Sanji's every movement.

"I don't like this."

"Zoro, it's fine." He glanced down at his captain, half-asleep and slumped tiredly against his shoulder. "Sanji's okay; just relax."

Across the water, the newcomers burst into a cacophony of harsh laughter, and Zoro's blood began to boil. "You don't understand, Luffy; that bastard's looking at him like-"

"He's not gonna leave us." He blinked in surprise and felt the boy's soft chuckle against his side. "Nothing's happening tonight, and in the morning, Sanji will still be ours; trust him."

"It's them I don't trust," Zoro growled but felt much calmer, and he shifted Luffy into a more comfortable position. His captain smiled sleepily and yawned, letting his head fall to the side as he drifted off.

"That's why you're here; because I know you'll take care of him. Just don't lose your head over it..."

The swordsman waited for Luffy's breathing to even out, and then he shrugged his jacket off and laid it across the captain's chest, hoping it would stand against the chill of the night. He settled back against the table, swords propped up safely in the crook of his arm, and kept a quiet vigil over his captain and the crew, but he was unable to shake off a growing sense of foreboding in the back of his mind.  _Sanji will still be ours…but will he really?_


	3. Herring run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Booster Shot Four head on an amazing underground roller coaster ride, while the Fruit Users plus Zoro get the short end of the stick. The journey to Staithe Wharf's Inner City begins now.

Franky groaned.

The darkness swallowed his voice up, and the shipwright threw his sheets off, letting them fall God knows where in the empty room. He shuffled into the hallway and growled loudly, catching the attention of no one at all. His grumbling sighs and moans echoed in the long, dark passage, but he noticed a distinct lack of silence at the end of the hall. Dragging himself towards it miserably, he burst into the brilliant light with a howl.

"Franky, quit your bellyaching already; we can hear you. It's not even  _that_  early."

Ah, the cook wouldn't understand; he liked to get up at the crack of midnight every day  _to cook_. Really. You couldn't make this stuff up. Sanji rolled his eyes and told him to quit exaggerating because it was more like one-thirty-ish, probably.

"Besides, I wasn't the one to wake you." He nodded at the Straw Hats sprawled around the room with a smirk. "Thank these idiots over here."

" _You_." He was sure that his voice conveyed all of the pain and betrayal that had ever been felt by everyone in the world in all time ever. He stomped into the kitchen to join the rest of his crewmates, who simply regarded him with varying expressions of indifference and boredom like they hadn't just ruined his life. Bastards.

"What ungodly hour is this?" he moaned, glaring blearily at the closest of those fiends, who just happened to be the sweet, gentle-hearted little doctor. Chopper blinked at him over his mug of steaming hot chocolate, topped off with whipped cream and chocolate chips. The shipwright paused for a moment and then directed his justified anger at the  _next_  fiend, the navigator. Better.

Nami looked completely unimpressed. "With all your creative additions and alterations to your body, I would have expected you to have a timepiece or two installed by now."

She had a point.

Franky scowled at her and raised his finger indignantly. "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard and I am going to make a note of it. Because it's just that dumb."

"Uh-huh." She gave him a smug, knowing look and tucked her faithful map log and compass into the day pack at her feet. "Get dressed and grab something to eat on the way to the city; we have a long day ahead of us."

"It's still black as sin out there!" He gestured at the inky sky and twinkling stars beyond the portholes in the galley. "How could you do this to me?"

Usopp glanced up sleepily from his cereal bowl, most of his breakfast dripping off the side of his face and onto the table.

"W-we're going to…seize the day, or something," he yawned, letting his head drop back into the bowl. "Carpe…diemph…"

Franky furrowed his brow as he tried to decipher the sniper's gurgling, leaving Robin and Brook to fish him out of his breakfast. "Why is Longnose talking about carp fishing and diadems?"

"Never mind that, get ready!" Nami snapped, shoving several towels and a fresh bar of soap into his hands. "If you keep holding us up, I  _will_  make you regret it."

Sanji rushed past them and dropped a new package of toilet paper on top of the stack of towels. "And don't forget to restock; I wasted an hour trying to find the paper today because  _someone_ -"

He gave Luffy a pointed glare, and the captain shrugged innocently.

"-thought it would be a good idea to use it to line the docks."

Franky raised an eyebrow.

" _All_  of them."

He tilted his head at Luffy and frowned. "Why?"

"I got splinters when I walked barefoot on them."

"You have sandals," the cook groaned, pressing the heel of his palm against his head. " _Anyway_. Franky, your food is on the counter. If anyone needs me, I'll be outside helping the cleanup from yesterday  _and_  from Luffy's million-beli idea."

The captain grinned at the cook as he hopped along on one foot while shoving the other foot into his shoe before he dashed for the door. "Love you too, Sanji."

" _Toilet paper_ , captain."

"Hahaha, yeah…"

Franky threw his head back and groaned, slumping across the kitchen in search of his food. "Is everyone on this ship insane?"

"Franky, it's not that bad," Brook said, fixing himself up a fresh pot of coffee and offered him some. "Caffeine? I'll put in a shot of cola for you."

"…yes, please." The others could take their stupid judgmental cringing and shove it; the Franky Special  _Double-Coup de Wham!_  was goddamned delicious.

(It used to be called  _The Triple-Coup_ , until Chopper told him he couldn't use caffeine tablets in his drink anymore unless he was aiming to die of a heart attack before he hit thirty-six.)

"You should be glad that you got to wake up at such a lovely hour," the musician continued cheerfully, seemingly unaffected by the long hours of partying and an early rising. "Look, you'll be one of the first to see the sunrise!"

"Yes, thanks for waking me up at  _fuck o'clock_  so I can burn my retinas out by staring straight into the horizon at a flaming ball of pain, everyone!"

Armed with his extra bathroom supplies and a steaming mug of coffee, Franky made his way to the showers grimly, wishing that he had stayed in bed today. Nami wasn't joking when she said they had a long day ahead of them; she probably had an itinerary already written up for each of them. And he was probably going to be doing most of the heavy lifting, if she had her way. Well, at least he could shove some of it off on Curly-bro. He just loved suffering for Nami's sake.

Before Franky closed the door, he heard Usopp's confused voice drifting down the hall behind him.

"But he already  _has_  sunglasses."

* * *

Luffy had also used up the hand soap, his favorite conditioner (Robin had once mentioned that she liked the smell of it and he had stopped using any other scent),  _and_  all of the hot water.

Needless to say, Franky showered in record time.

"I'm impressed. Maybe I should start limiting hot water on the ship."

" _You wouldn't_ ," he hissed through chattering teeth, knowing full-well that Nami actually would. "For God's sake, have some compassion."

"Tch, that's Sanji's spiel." The navigator grinned smugly from her seat across the table and sipped on a fresh cup of tea while the cook dashed around the room making last minute preparations for the others remaining with the ship today. "Are you really underestimating my capacity for frugality, Franky?"

"I guess I just did." He dropped his head on the table and sighed; Chopper had refused to let him have any more  _Double-Coup_ , and he was desperately low on caffeine right now. His stomach then gave a loud growl, and he moaned pitifully, unable to bring himself to get up to find something to eat.

"I should have known better than to trust you to eat your food while I was gone." A bento box was set down in front of him, and Sanji's glare was enough to wake him up fully. Every inch of the cook's expression promised pain and death. "Here, so you don't pass out and make me look bad in front of the islanders."

Franky rolled his eyes, though secretly he felt touched that the cook had thought to pack him some food for the trip. This sort of treatment was something usually reserved for the girls. Still, he wasn't about to test Sanji's patience by mentioning it right now. "Yes, mom; like you couldn't do that with your salivating over their women."

(Well, he tried. At least he hadn't said anything about the food.)

"Wh- but you…tch, that means nothing coming from a pervert like you!"

"Ah, you sweet talker."

"You're taking it like a compliment again."

"Boys, enough." Nami stepped in between them and slapped a booklet into their chests, glaring furiously at them as if daring them to say another word. "You're giving me a headache, so grab your fake official passports and let's go."

" _Yes_ ,  _Nami-swan_ ," Sanji crooned, almost falling over in his attempt to lean into her touch. " _Shall I get you more tea to soothe your pain_ ,  _Swan-swan_?"

"Someone get me arsenic to soothe  _my_  pain," Zoro muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes at the cook's antics with his usual disdain, but there was a sharp edge to his tone that suggested an actual intent to hurt. He took Sanji's icy glare in stride, his own expression twisting into a vindictive sneer.

Sanji's reply was needle-thin and brittle. "Oh, believe me. If I thought it could, I would have started lacing your food with it a long time ago."

"Yeah? What happened to 'I'd never tamper with my food', bastard?" Zoro was on his feet and reaching for his swords, and the cook shifted into a fighting stance. "You just gonna give up your morals, Mr. Better-than-Thou?"

"Bite. Me."

There was something troubling the cook and the swordsman, which never boded well on this ship and especially not when they could barely stand to look at each other anymore. Franky had seen the frustrated looks Zoro gave the cook when he thought no one was watching. He and Robin had been worried about Sanji since his erratic behavior began a couple of weeks back, after he holed himself up in the kitchen. And then there was the screaming match last night. Franky shared a look with Robin, resolving to take their crewmates' mind off of things (or maybe even figure out what was going on between them).

"Hey, Curly-bro; let's go out there and have fun for all these suckers." He grinned and threw an arm around Sanji, who looked down at Franky's arm in annoyance. It was an improvement over his angry face, at any rate. "We can make snarky commentary on the weird-ass people and places while we sightsee and I'll even buy you a drink or twenty. Zoro will be so jealous."

("I will not.")

"You really don't have to," Sanji muttered, trying to get out of his embrace before he gave up and sighed. "But thank you."

Franky was sure that a smile was budding on Sanji's face, but if it was he didn't get to see, because in the next instant a pair of trousers slapped him in the face. The cook took that moment of distraction to escape Franky's grasp and hide behind Nami.

"Pants?"

Nami crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. "What, did you expect to run around the city in your underwear?"

"B-but, my style!"

"We're going incognito, remember?"

"Where's Cognito?" The navigator rolled her eyes at Usopp's question, who smiled slyly and snatched his new hooded jacket from her before retreating a safe distance to get ready.

"She means we need to wear disguises, idiot." Sanji straightened his pea coat and dragged his hands through his hair, tucking it all underneath his cap carefully. "So get dressed and let's go; you're holding us up."

Before anyone could try to sneak a peek at his usually hidden eye, he set the cap at a jaunty angle and effectively obscured their sight of his face.

Everyone groaned. "Will we  _ever_  get to see?"

The cook smirked and strolled away, scooping up Nami's bag and his own as he headed towards the door.

"Reply hazy, try again."

"Ah, a mystery eye." Their captain nodded sagely, and Chopper looked up at him in wonderment. "Magic-8 eye, am I going to get extra snacks while Sanji is gone?"

"Don't count on it!"

"Boys, let's go; we're burning daylight!"

The shipwright glanced past Nami at the open door. "You can't even see the sun yet, sis!"

As if to spite him, the first rays of light shone directly on him, and Franky squinted in the pale yellow glow of the sunrise.

"Oh, come  _on_!"

* * *

Their crewmates crossed the harbor in the golden morning glow that shimmered off the waters. They had bundled up against the morning chill, but Robin could still see the slight tremble in their backs, and they huddled close together as they walked towards the Dockmaster's office. Nami's vibrant red hair peeked out from underneath her pink hat despite her attempts to hide it. She seemed to be laughing at something the sniper said, as he was leaning close to whisper in her ear.

Franky then joined in, chuckling as he ducked the cook's blow aimed at his head, though his orange cap knocked to the ground and revealed his blue hair underneath. Sanji quickly scrambled to pick it up and shoved it onto his head, and the four glanced around furtively.

Zoro sighed in exasperation. "Those idiots are going to get caught already, and they haven't even made it off the docks."

"They'll be fine," Luffy grinned, resting his head on his arms as he watched them. "They're smarter than they look."

"Wow." Zoro, Brook, and Chopper held identical expressions of pity on their faces as they watched the Booster Shot Four stumble into each other at the end of the docks, oblivious to what was being said about them. "Those poor fools."

"That was a compliment."

Before Zoro could decide whether the effort that explaining to Luffy why maybe their friends wouldn't exactly find his words flattering was worth it, Robin called up at them from the docks. "Gentlemen, we're on cleanup today!"

She had carried several empty baskets down and waited expectantly for them on one of the toilet papered piers.

Chopper slumped over Zoro's shoulder. "We have to clean all that?"

"It is our toilet duty, Chopper," Brook chuckled, and then he doubled over laughing uncontrollably. "Get it? Duty? As in-?"

"We get it, Brook." Zoro gave him a long-suffering look. "Unfortunately."

It didn't take long before they were chasing Luffy around on the docks as he laughed his head off, trailing long streams of toilet paper behind him. He had wrapped one of the pieces around his head and was declaring himself Bandana King. "Look, I'm Zoro!"

"Luffy…" Zoro loomed over the boy with a demonic gloom hanging over him. "For the love of- put your shoes back on, captain!"

"No way! This is too much fun!"

There were plenty of other pirate crews cleaning out on the docks, and most of them were happy to take a break to watch the Straw Hats dash across the white paper paths after Luffy. Some of them were laughing outright, while their captains merely smiled on in amusement.

"They aren't even going to pretend to help, are they?" Zoro grumbled as Luffy managed to dodge him again. "Shit, this kid has developed some sort of sixth sense for me. I can't catch him!"

"Too slow, Santoryu! Ahahaha!"

"You know," Chopper panted as they ran past the Sunny for the third time, "This kind of reminds me of the clouds in Skypiea."

"The Sky Island?" Brook asked from where he was doubled over by the moorings, wiping a hand over his forehead. "Oho, I've worked up a sweat…even though I don't have any skin, ohohoho!"

"Skull joke!" Luffy called out in another peal of laughter, just before he tripped and went tumbling over the edge of the pier. "Whoops."

" _Luffy_!"

A deep chuckle cut them off, and Zoro let his shoulders slump in relief. Captain Thaddeus was holding the boy up by his paper bandana, mere inches from the water. Luffy grinned up at him. "Hello, Captain Tad!"

The older pirate captain returned the smile, pulling him back to the safety of the docks. He had the rest of his crew with him, and they were all armed with lots of extra baskets and bins full of toilet paper. "I see you're hard at work, Captain."

"Yep!" Their captain waved at all the Lathos pirates cheerfully. "Hi, everybody! Thanks for helping us clean!"

"No problem, little bud."

"You too, guys!" Luffy's smile could have lit the entire ship for a month. "I couldn't have done it without my crew!"

Zoro stomped over, nearly driven to exasperation by his captain's antics. "What are you  _talking_  about? All we've done so far is chase you across the port for an hour!"

Luffy looked up at him with the smuggest grin he had ever seen.

"Look again, Zoro."

He did, and then scowled at the bare wooden boards of the docks. Not a strand of paper was to be seen anywhere. Brook and Chopper gaped in slack-jawed wonder. "Whoa, what happened?"

"It seems we shouldn't underestimate our captain's wisdom," Robin smiled slyly behind her hand, and Zoro suspected that most of the cleanup was her doing. She caught his gaze and whispered, "I told him to pick up as much as he could while you gave chase; he thought it was a game."

The swordsman shrugged and decided to humor his captain. "What can I say, Luffy? You really outdid yourself this time."

"Yeah, I know. Hey, do you think it's time for lunch?"

Without waiting for an answer (not that they had expected him to), Luffy began to strut off in the direction of the Sunny, still wearing that ridiculous toilet paper around his head; he didn't get further than two steps before he slumped to the ground with a wail. "I got another splinter!"

With a sigh, the Straw Hats headed over to collect their captain off the floor. "Put your shoes on, Luffy."

Zoro was helping him to his feet and steadily ignoring Luffy's complaints about the pain, when the Lathos captain approached them. Something must have passed between them silently because Luffy immediately straightened up and stopped whimpering.

"Captain Luffy, I actually came over for a second reason." Thaddeus' smile was strained, and his crew was watching their surroundings carefully. "Could we talk somewhere private?"

Luffy grinned wide and toothily, showing no sign that he had noticed the tension in the group. "Join us for lunch."

* * *

The ferry ride into the inner cities was actually underground, embedded deep in the rock below the Dockmaster's office, and by the time they reached the boat, Usopp was begging to be taken back to the surface.

"I've suddenly come down with 'I can't go into the mysterious inner island' disease," he whimpered, digging his feet into the rock as a grim-faced Sanji and Franky dragged him towards the boat, a long, double-deck cruising vessel. "Come on, guys; can't we go on to Sabaody instead?"

"Can you pay me back the twenty-three thousand beli I spent on your customs papers and immunization shots?"

The three men stared at her in slack-jawed horror, and Nami simply huffed past them grumpily. "Let's go; this is the last boat in until six."

Franky shook his head. "No wonder you're in such a sour mood, little sis."

"Nami-swan, forgive me!" Sanji trailed after her in tears, dragging his pack (but not hers, of course) over the dirt as he sobbed. "I will do my best to pay back every single beli you have graciously spent on me!"

"With interest."

The cook clasped his hands in front of his chest. " Unfixed and compounded, like always, Nami-swan!"

Usopp and Franky shared a sullen glare, knowing that they would inevitably be included in Sanji's promises. "She's going to bleed us dry."

The navigator stepped out onto the open platform lightly, the click of her heels on the smooth, polished steel echoing in the large, dark cavern. "Hm, I feel better already. Thank you, Sanji-kun."

"And that's not all! I'll even…no!  _We_  will, as a whole crew-"

The other two jumped on him and covered his mouth before he could continue digging them into a hole. "Shut  _up_ , Sanji! We're just barely ahead; don't ruin it."

They didn't know how to take Sanji's muffled response, so they just carried him onto the platform, too scared to let him go in case he wasn't done groveling for Nami. The ticketmaster on the ferry gave them a weird look, raising his eyebrow at the subdued cook bundled up in their spare coats, but he let them pass anyway. Nami smiled sweetly at him and then shot them a glare, leading them to one of the last seats on the boat's second platform.

"What is wrong with you guys?" she muttered, tucking her bag under her feet as she settled into the seat by the window. "We're trying to blend in, remember?"

"Well,  _sorry_  that I can't afford to let Cook-bro bury me in more debt." Franky sat down in the seat opposite of her, dropping his own pack onto the little table separating the rows. "Besides, he didn't say anything, did he? I don't think these people even care who we are."

"Would you two shut up?" Usopp hissed, looking shiftily around at the passengers in the other compartments. "They're going to think we're suspicious."

"With the way you're gaping at them, of course they are." Nami moaned, covering her eyes miserably. "I swear, Eyepatch Boy and Mr. Bushido would have been less conspicuous companions."

Franky scoffed. "Please, you haven't seen my undercover moves yet, sis."

Usopp looked up wearily. "Tell me it involves keeping your pants on."

He glanced sidelong at their cook, who had been strangely quiet during the whole exchange. With a yelp, Usopp realized that he was breathing shallowly beneath his puffy-coat cocoon.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He ripped the coats open and Sanji took a huge, oxygen-starved breath. Nami leaned over and tugged the outermost jacket off, shaking her head in frustration at their idiocy. "Did you think that maybe he had to be able to breathe in this thing?"

"Oops?"

"It's okay, Nami-swan," Sanji coughed, wiggling smoothly into her lap. "I don't mind suffocation as long as you're around to resuscitate me." He pursed his lips at her, making kissing sounds. "My body is ready."

She shoved her hand into his face. "Ugh, he's fine."

After their laughter had died down (and after two warnings from the ticketmaster to  _please, shut up already_ ), they had settled in for the ride. Usopp was curled up on the floor with his arms around Sanji's cocoon, still trembling when the boat began to move seemingly out of nowhere. Franky noted that there appeared to be no engine or propeller of any kind, which was odd enough, but there was also no one at the helm steering the ferry as they glided through the water.

"What if this is a ghost ship, and its taking us to its ghost house to eat us all?"

"Usopp, that doesn't even make any sense," Sanji grumbled, wiggling to get out of his warm, comfy prison to no avail. "Why would a ship have a house? And how would it cook us anyway? It has no hands."

"Maybe it uses its ghost powers," Franky wondered, looking out the window at the darkening passage. "Like the ones on Thriller Bark that fed off of our emotions."

"You can't cook emotions, Franky. Believe me, I've tried."

Nami looked at them over the top of her book, the little bookmark she had tucked into it also serving as a back light. "Sometimes I forget how young you really are, Sanji-kun. But then I end up disappointed with myself, so I try not to think about it."

The cook had freed his torso from the bundle of clothes, and he propped himself up on his elbow, giving her his best smoldering stare while Usopp and Franky tried to hold back their laughter. "Will you fall for my boyish charms first, Nami-swan, or is it my seductive maturity that will win you over?"

"If I thought you were serious about pursuing me, I would give you a straight answer," she chuckled, raising her book back up to continue reading.

"You don't think I love you?" Sanji frowned up at her.

"I  _know_  you love me." Nami smiled gently and placed her hand on his head, pushing the brim of his hat over his eyes. "But, I think that you love something else more. I think we all do."

Her crewmates gave her a questioning look. "What would that be?"

"I think we're all in love with our dreams, above everything else."

Franky grinned as he leaned back in his seat, as did Usopp. Sanji's expression had softened, and all three of them had a wistful look in their eyes. Nami wouldn't ever admit this, but there was something about the way they just lit up whenever dreams were mentioned, like nothing else in the world mattered, that made her fall just a little more in love with her crew. It was almost intoxicating, and lovelier than all of her treasures. Never in a thousand lifetimes could she have imagined meeting people like them, nor having friends as wonderful and sweet.

The heavy darkness of the caves suddenly lessened, and the four pirates glanced out the wide window to find a strange, bluish glow filling the cabin.

"I knew it; it's ghosts." Usopp slowly edged his way into Sanji's cocoon, burying his head in the hood of his jacket. Nami rolled her eyes and tried to drag him back out.

"It is not, scaredy-cat." She shoved him out into the hallway. "Now go check to see what that is; I'll have a higher chance of surviving if you go first."

"Nami!"

Franky jumped up, furrowing his brow as he pushed pass the bickering pair in the hall. "Out of the way, you two. I don't think it's anything deadly."

The boat gave an abrupt lurch, and they were sent sprawling to the ground.

"What the heck was that?" Usopp was now clinging to Nami nervously, his eyes darting around to the window in their compartment. "Are those stars?"

"We're underground, Usopp." Sanji peered up at the glowing lights with a frown. "Why would there be…oh my God."

He tore himself out of the bundled coats around him and was on his feet with Franky in an instant. "Guys, come outside."

"If you guys get me killed, I'm  _so_  going to haunt you all mercilessly."

Nami followed the shipwright and the cook with a roll of her eyes. "We would never let you die without us, Usopp. Now come on."

The sniper ran after her down the narrow hallway, ignoring the stares of the other passengers as they stuck their heads out and wondered what was going on. "That's comforting, Nami.  _Thanks_."

"Always here for you, Longnose."

They burst out onto the upper deck, a wide, flat platform with no railing and plenty of edges that one could fall off, but what caught their interest was the tunnel they were traveling.

Nami covered her mouth, eyes wide in awe as she took in the sight before her. The waters of the underground river were shimmering in the inky darkness of the cave, illuminated by several openings in the cave's ceiling. All along the walls of the tunnel were long, curving streams of water, smaller rivers and pools tucked into the rock around them. Some of the streams were full-sized rivers, running alongside the main river and carrying actual sea creatures. Fish swam along the narrower chutes in a gravity-defying display, leaping out at them and then falling back up into the streams on the ceiling.

"The tide reaches up to this tunnel's ceiling," Franky muttered, studying the rocky crags and rivers above them. "That must be why there aren't any ferry trips for another twelve hours."

"But how in the world do they stay up there?" Usopp gaped at the fish swimming overhead, ducking reflexively every time one of them jumped out even though he knew that they couldn't reach him.

"Beats me, but this is crazy stuff right here."

"What  _isn't_  crazy on the Grand Line?" Sanji grinned up at the impossible tunnel around them, the lights casting all different hues of blue across his skin. Another lurch shook the boat, and they heard the roar of an approaching drop in the river, the reason they were going faster now. The wet platform offered no purchase for their feet, and Nami felt her ankle fall out from under her on the slipper surface.

" _Oh_."

Nami thought that she would topple over, but then a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and held her close to one of the platform's support beams. Franky. She leaned into his embrace and felt herself calm down, even while the boat started picking up speed. Usopp let out a yelp from her right, and she could see Sanji crouched next to him, holding him steady as the boat gave a shudder.

"Hold on, guys!"

Franky's shout carried over the growing roar, and then the ferry plunged downward into the riverbend. Cold water splashed over the platform, and they went faster and faster into a curving spiral, before it suddenly straightened out into another long chute. The waters were less choppy now, though they could see the water level rising up to meet the ceiling.

"Sanji!"

The cook had pushed Usopp back towards the columns and edged closer to the bow of the boat, slowly straightening from his crouch while the waves licked at his feet. He reached a tentative hand up to the ceiling as it approached them, and then his fingertips brushed the underbelly of the winding currents, droplets falling down to meet him halfway.

"Are you crazy?" Usopp shouted, desperately clinging to the beam next to Franky and Nami. "What if you get crushed?"

"No, look."

Water pooled around his hand, enveloping a lithe little silverfish that swam around in his grasp blissfully. Sanji cradled the water bubble in his hands carefully, staring at the plain fish in awe and wonderment.

Nami's eyes widened. "It's from East Blue."

Sanji nodded, biting his lip in barely contained excitement. Franky and Usopp cast around, looking at the fish swimming along the currents in hopes of recognizing some of them.

"Some of these fish are from the other Blues, too!"

Sanji threw his head back and laughed, letting the little fish swim back up into the river. "The All Blue is out here! We're so close!"

Nami couldn't stand it any longer. She ran across the slippery platform and threw herself at the cook, wrapping her arms around his neck. Frank and Usopp followed close behind, grinning excitedly as they piled on top of Sanji for a huge hug. Their laughter rang in a joyous echo in the tunnel, and nothing else seemed to matter at the moment but the fact that they were going to find it. They were almost  _there_.

The tunnel opened out just then, throwing them into the brilliant light of the day and giving them a clear view of the Inner Cities. They looked up at the towering city above them as the ferry floated gently through the waters of the inner lake, like the uncontrolled roller coaster ride through the underground cave was just a distant memory. The noise of the city rose up to greet them, mingling with all the breathtaking sights of Staithe Wharf's Inner City. Nami smiled up at the shimmering sunlight around them, still squeezing Sanji gently.

"Oh, it's beautiful."

(She wasn't only talking about the city. Franky and Usopp seemed to catch her meaning and smiled.)


	4. In the crosshairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Five Inner Cities are full of surprising sights and sounds, and each Straw Hat experiences Staithe Wharf in a unique way. Back on the docks, Luffy and his remaining crew deal with a brewing storm and shifting ties.
> 
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> (The working title for this chapter on my computer is 'Cheer Sad Cook with Musical Numbers'. I hope that intrigued you.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for following this story so far and leaving kudos on this too. Each chapter also seems to get longer with every subsequent update, so I apologize if that's not your thing. I hope you enjoy!

Morning clung to the sky above the Inner Cities in a warm cheery light, breaking through the heavy green foliage and between the tall, spiraling buildings on each of the island's five major cities, giving the whole place a golden, dreamlike air. Even the forbidden outer forests looked ethereal in the glow, a contrast of dark and light along the edges of the lake. Up above the floating cities, strange, thin lines ran across the sky in a seemingly random pattern, and every once in a while they reflected the sunlight in short flashes as they swayed in the wind.

"What are those?" Usopp wondered aloud as he studied the network of steel lines, sitting beside Sanji on the edge of the platform as their boat cut smoothly through the water. "They kinda look like cables or something."

"That is the old transport system," the ticketmaster sighed from behind them, trying to keep the other passengers inside. "It was used for cargo and travel across different points on the island, until the virus wiped out access to the outer island."

"Would be cool to see them in use." Usopp muttered, looking into the forest where the lines disappeared into the canopy.

"It would be 'cool' if you all came back inside."

"Whoa! Check that out!" Franky pointed across the water at the first city's skyline where skyscrapers rose up like giants from the marketplace, reflecting the sky off of their smooth, sleek walls. "Places to throw my money away!"

All of the passengers burst out of the boat now, crowding onto the ferry's two platforms to gape at the city in gleeful excitement, leaving the ticketmaster standing helplessly at the door. "Why won't you people  _listen_? The rules are here to keep you  _safe_!"

Nami gave him a sympathetic look. "Sorry, but we're  _pirates_. We don't do well with rules."

She joined her crewmates at the bow of the boat, dangling her legs over the edge with Usopp while Franky and Sanji pointed out the different places they would have to visit before they left. With five different cities to see, they were definitely going to have a busy day.

Plata held the main marketplace on the island, with hundreds of different vendors and shops lining the streets and seven full-sized shopping centers spread out across the city; of course it would be the first stop for the tourists. After they had fished a couple of the passengers out of the lake ("They should really install a railing on this thing."), the ferry docked on the small platform below the city's entrance and they all disembarked post-haste, eager to get into the shopping center of the island. Unfortunately, the islanders had planned their city out exceedingly well.

Nami had to fight through the tourist trap shop set up at the entrance of the marketplace, the so-called "Holiday Haven Gift Shop (and other assorted chintzy prizes)", and by the time she got out of  _that_  particular black hole, her crewmates were gone.

"Great."

At least she still had her money. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, the navigator made her way through the crowded markets, looking over the list of supplies they needed to pick up and the list of useless things that her crewmates  _wanted_  to pick up. Really, did they think she was swimming in beli? Nami grinned wryly.

(Even if she did have enough to dive into, that was so unsanitary and disgusting. Who in their right mind would do that?)

Taking a moment to orient herself, she mapped out the city's layout in her mind and chose a winding street to follow, deciding that she could search for the others as she shopped. They only had a limited time in the city, and she wanted to make the most of it.

On the other side of the island city, Franky was finishing off his breakfast bento as he walked through the biggest mall he could have ever imagined. After he plowed his way through what the locals called "The Black Hole", he had found himself out here, surrounded by more shops and stores than he had believed possible, and they were all calling his name. One in particular caught his eye.

"What the heck is a 'primation process'? And why does that thing have a-? Ohhh..."

Once Usopp's desire to explore the markets overcame his fear of being alone in the inner cities, he took to the shopping centers like a fish to water. Almost like he had an innate sense for the place, the sniper quickly found the best places for the ammunition supplies he needed so desperately at this point, and then he found  _the_  ammunition place.

No, really; it was called The Ammunition Place.

Usopp was amazed at the sheer diversity of long-range weapons that were contained within the store. From beautiful hand-drawn longbows to an amazing array of slingshot-type weapons like his own, the walls were covered from top to bottom, and the center of the store had aisles and aisles of arrows, shells, cartridges, and projectiles, as well as others supplies related to the care and use of those weapons.

"Is this Sniper Heaven?"

"That would actually be the unofficial title of this store, young man."

Usopp whirled around and screamed, and the man pointing a rifle at his face screamed as well, catching the attention of the other shoppers. Screams continued to burst forth out of the store, to the shock and horror of innocent mall-goers everywhere in the shopping center.

* * *

Nami met Franky on the waterfront in Kioji, where he was testing the weights of varying ship anchors and haggling with the vendors over the price on timber pieces and planks.

"You're a complete idiot if you think I'm going to pay full price for this; it isn't even Adam wood!"

The navigator smiled as he headed towards her with a good haul of the wood, at half-price, too. She had taught him well.

"Well done, my pupil."

"I learned from the best," he smirked, setting his supplies down on the docks next to her, and they sat down to compare stories. He had made his way through Plata's sharp-cornered streets and throughways on foot, picking up a few new tool sets that he and Usopp had been looking for before he found himself in the boatyard district on the second city-island and began to buy the Sunny a few things he needed for repairs. "But my favorite place is definitely Sky Mall. They have everything under the sun."

"I hope you didn't spend all your money there."

He laughed at her disapproving glare. "Don't worry, I have enough to treat you to lunch!"

"You're completely irresponsible; I'm surprised I still give you an allowance."

Nami sighed and looked out at the island lake, where several smaller boats ferried people across to the other Inner Cities. They still had a lot of ground to cover, and the sun was climbing higher overhead.

"I wonder where the others are…"

Franky stretched out on the docks and yawned, closing his eyes against the midday sunlight. "I dunno, Usopp's probably hiding and Sanji's probably cooking. They're fine."

He looked at the bags sitting next to her, overflowing with supplies and other purchases. "Where have you been, by the way? I lost you at the Black Hole and no one knew where you had gone."

"Cartography shops. These are high-quality stores, once you get past the cheap gift shop at the entrance." Nami picked up one of her bags and showed him the new mapmaking supplies she had found. It looked like all the usual, with some beautiful new inks and pens for her set back on the Sunny, but then something else caught his eye.

"What's this?"

Nami gleefully pulled out the folder tucked into her purse, showing him what looked to be the official deed to…

"Worldline Entertainment and Resorts. You can't be serious. Where did you get this?"

"I found a casino."

"And?"

Nami's catlike smile widened, and she practically purred, "I won it."

"…you are really starting to scare me with that smile of yours."

Nami cackled all the way back through the marketplace, and the shipwright was sure that he wasn't the only one who found the gleam in her eyes terrifying.

* * *

"You are an amazing shot, my boy."

Usopp apologized for the hundredth time, wiping at the yolky mess dripping off the store manager's face with a trembling hand. "I really,  _really_  didn't mean to shoot you in the face with a rotten egg, sir."

The man laughed and waved him off. "Boy, I pointed what you believed to be a loaded rifle, straight into your face. I'm surprised I still have my head on my neck."

"Sorry, sorry."

Mr. Canche, owner of the Ammunition Place (also known as Sniper Heaven by the regulars), shook his head and said, "I've never seen such a precise, over-the-shoulder  _headshot_. If that had been any other kind of projectile…"

The sniper fidgeted nervously with the dirty handkerchief in his hands. "If I had wanted to, I could have gone straight for the phoenix shell instead of the eggbomb."

Canche gave him a questioningly look. "What does the phoenix shell do?"

"It bursts into flames of about one thousand degrees."

His jaw dropped. " _What_?"

"Good thing I grabbed the right pellet, huh?" Usopp gave him a beatific smile and began to peruse the bins lining the front counter, wondering if they carried anything similar to his stink bombs. "By the way, do you always greet potential customers with a weapon to their face?"

Mr. Canche looked sheepish, and he glanced at the rifle laid out on the countertop. "I apologize; I was simply balancing the scope on this new shipment we got this morning, and I heard your question while I was looking through the lens."

The sniper folded his arms across his chest. "And you forgot you were holding a dangerous weapon when you decided to answer me."

"It's not loaded, and the lock is on, if that helps!"

"I almost died of a heart attack!"

The man grinned and moved the rifle onto its stand behind the counter, where several more cases waiting to be opened rested on the floor. "You act like you've never stared down the end of a gun barrel."

Usopp cringed. "Is that something you do on a regular basis, because at this point I wouldn't be surprised."

With a booming laugh, Canche headed into the backroom. "Take a look around, son! I'll be right back after washing up. We'll talk gun caliber and exit wounds next."

Usopp considered leaving right there and then, but he had to admit that those guns looked incredible and beautiful in their own way (terrifying and horrifically dangerous, yes, but still amazing). He looked down at the wide glass display of smaller guns and rifles for a while, thinking that there was no way they would ever be as good as his slingshot, even with all of their fancy attachments and add-ons. Nothing beat a good old slingshot and a sharp eye in the hands of a good sniper.

When Canche returned with a clean shirt and some boxes of fresh ammunition, he found Usopp staring at the displays on the far wall, frowning at a certain piece he had been holding on to for a while.

"Ah, I see you've found something to suit your tastes?"

Usopp glanced up and shook his head with a polite grin. "No, sorry. I was just remembering something."

The shop manager nodded eagerly and began to lead him back to the main display. "Forgive my mistake, you probably want to look at the finer pieces in the store, right? Those silly things couldn't possibly interest you."

Usopp's gaze kept drifting to the back wall. "I actually like those silly things. My dad used to own one."

"Did I say silly? I meant to say sensible. Wonderful.  _Astounding_."

Ignoring the man's increasingly manic backpedaling, Usopp stuffed his hands into his pockets and worried at his lip; his foot was tapping a nervous beat on the clean hardwood flooring.

"D'you think…that maybe I could hold it, just a moment?"

Mr. Canche smiled; the boy looked like he had just been given an early Christmas present. He held the small flintlock pistol with such tenderness, even though earlier he had been flinching at the sight of the guns. A soft, nostalgic smile graced his face, and he ran his fingers down its side slowly.

"My father left us, my mom and I, when I was just a kid. This was all I had left of him."

"What happened to him?" Canche looked concerned, and Usopp didn't blame him. He probably wasn't expecting to hear someone's sob story when he opened up his store this morning.

Usopp shrugged. "He became a pirate. I haven't seen him since."

"And the gun?"

"Well…my mother got really sick after he left. We didn't have much even when he was around, so when there was nothing left, I sold the gun for her medicine."

He still remembered the look on his mother's face when he brought her the medicine from the clinic; even back then she had probably realized what he had done. Her bitter tears had stung a lot, but he would have done it all over again, given the chance. A seven-year-old didn't have many ways to get his hands on beli, not as much as she had needed. After she died, he threw the rest of the money into the cove on the north side of the island (that had been particularly stupid, but Usopp never claimed to be a bright seven-year-old). He had gotten by, at least physically and healthwise.

"Son, you need to try this gun out."

"This isn't a metaphor for 'you need to try getting  _shot_  by it', is it?"

Canche chuckled. "Just a test run. Try it out along the firing range over there and see what you think."

"I've never fired one of these things before; I'll shoot my nose off."

"And what a pity it would be to lose such a fine nose, but I'll help you out and pre-load it first. All you have to do is aim and fire."

Usopp pouted at the nose comment, but he let the man set him up at the very end of the range, taking the gun from his hands and testing out its weight. It was so different and just  _weird_ ; there wasn't any band to load and pull back like his slingshot. "I am not responsible for any property damage and or bodily harm, to you or anyone else in this place."

"Of course not…wait, what?"

He fired the first round into the target, wincing at the feeling of recoil in his hands. "It's…different."

Canche grinned at him, pointing towards the hole in the target. It had barely clipped the drawn figure's foot. "Not bad for a beginner, son!"

"A beginner?"

Usopp narrowed his eyes and fired again, hitting the target's arm this time. A third shot missed the board entirely. "Curse this blasted thing's recoil!"

The store's other employees and shoppers had begun to edge closer, curiously watching the boy's frustrated attempts to hit the mark. Usopp ignored them all, focusing solely on the gun in his hand. He breathed out slowly and closed his eyes. " _Hit the mark_."

The sixth shot clanged against the target's torso, to Mr. Canche's delight, but he didn't stop there. Snatching up the extra rounds, he walked down the firing range, loading the gun as he had seen the shop owner do it, and Usopp started firing at the other target boards with a frightening accuracy, hitting each and every one of them without fail. He stopped at the last, furthest target and shot his last round into the figure's head, leaving a scorching black mark on the white board.

The store had gone very still and quiet, Usopp's shot still ringing in the silence.

He rubbed his wrist slowly and held the empty gun out to the manager. "Um, I didn't mean to get carried away."

Mr. Canche gave him a long, hard look. "Keep it."

"What?" Usopp grinned nervously and shook his head, trying to hand the gun back to the store owner. "Oh, no. Sorry, I don't have any money to spare."

"Who said I would accept any money from you?"

"…no-no-no-no-no, I can't. You can't." Usopp looked at the man with a confused frown, clutching the gun to his chest. "Are you okay?"

"I had already decided that I was going to give it to you, but now I'm certain of it. It's yours."

"You can't just hand out guns to complete strangers because you feel like it. How do you make any money?"

"I charge obscenely high prices for the ammunition, son. You have to pay an arm and a leg for some of these supplies." Canche laughed and threw his arm around Usopp's shoulders, and everyone in the store joined in.

"No, really. I had some guy pay with an arm and a leg one time."

Usopp sighed wearily. "I don't know why I expected anything else from this story."

"He bought himself a good pair of rifles with that…I believe he used them to replace the arm and leg he gave up."

"You mean there's a guy out there using two huge weapons as his  _prosthetic limbs_?" Usopp looked horrified, but then he remembered Franky's wide array of weapons and armory. "Wait, that's almost normal here on the Grand Line, isn't it?"

"Boy, when you grow up on the Grand Line, normal just doesn't cut it anymore."

"I see."

Usopp departed from the Ammunition Place with a bag full of new supplies for his arsenal, a repair kit and case, and the flintlock pistol, all tucked safely into his pack. He smiled and waved at Mr. Canche, thanking him for his generosity; as strange as his trip had been, Usopp wanted to come back to the shop again and talk with the man about the care and love he seemed to have for his pieces, which until now Usopp had simply thought of as weapons. When he met his father again, he planned on matching him in skill and knowledge, and that crazy old store owner had given him a good start. Grinning to himself, he left City Mall and stepped out onto the busy street, leaving behind the strange weapons shop.

"That was one of your finer pieces, sir."

"I know, Talis."

His assistant eyed him questioningly, looking away from the boy as he walked away. Her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"That boy's as sharp as a certain other sniper I've had the pleasure of having in my shop, and If I didn't know better, I'd say they were related. You don't come across talent like that very often."

"True, but you didn't give Yasopp this one, even though he begged to buy it out of nostalgia. Would have given you a hefty sum, too."

Mr. Canche chuckled and wiped down the rifle he was cleaning, setting it back up on its display on the wall. "Are you kidding me? He and his crew nearly trashed my place back then, and they got themselves kicked off Staithe in less than twenty minutes. Crazy bunch of hooligans."

"Besides, I actually like this boy…" He and Talis glanced over the row of his defeated targets lining the firing range, each with a perfect mark in the center. "Even the Sogeking would kill to have this kid's marksmanship."

* * *

Franky and Nami found them on Geone, the third Inner Island, amidst the somber, ancient beauty of the original Staithe. They were on the stone steps in front of the giant libraries in the city's center; Sanji was perched on a huge sack of supplies and food, his nose buried in a book, and Usopp sat with his back against a smaller pack, playing with one of his smaller slingshot designs.

"There you are!" They glanced up as Franky and Nami approached, carrying their own heavy packs tiredly. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"I walked all the way up to the Sky Mall Observatory and paid ten beli to look through their spotting scope, and they only gave me five minutes at a time." Franky dropped his pack and sat down heavily next to Usopp, who just looked at him with a serene expression. "Do you know how many flights of stairs that place has? I needed a breathing mask just to walk around on the viewing platform."

"Because the air was so thin?" the sniper asked lightly, turning back to his prototype.

"No, because my lungs gave out and I needed oxygen. That oxygen tank cost me five hundred beli."

Nami stepped over her crewmates and peered at the book that Sanji was reading. "What book's got you so preoccupied, Sanji-kun?"

"The new edition of  _Sailorette's A Girls_ ,  _Uncensored and Wild_."

He grinned up at the look of disgust on the navigator's face. "Kidding, Nami-swan. It's one of the unabridged histories on the Grand Line's minor islands. Did you know that there is an entire island chain off the North Calm Belt that was vanished into the ocean in a single day? It's rumored to be the lost Atlantis, though the sea monsters kinda keep everyone away."

Sanji gestured at another two books on his lap, thick, dusty tomes with yellowing pages. "This one's on the natural sea currents along the Line, I have a couple of sea charts and old maps, and the bookshop keeper helped me find a few histories for Robin-chan."

She glanced at the pile of books next to him, and she realized that he must have spent most of his personal money on books and research. He was eagerly scanning the maps, eyes shining brightly as he pointed out various theoretical sites of the All Blue, citing more books and sea journals than she could keep up with.

"I'm not good with maps and stuff like this, and I could really use your help, Nami-swan." He looked up at her with such a hopeful expression, and Nami felt her heart warm at the timidness behind his smile. He really was such a little kid.

"Sanji-kun, I'll help you make as many maps as it takes to find it." She squeezed his shoulder tenderly and smiled. "I promise."

"We'll all help you in whatever we can, Cook-bro."

Franky and Usopp grinned down at him from over the packs, and Sanji blushed to the roots of his hair. He rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, "Thanks, guys…now can you please stop looking at me like that? It's so mushy and touchy-feely."

Once they had managed to get their laughter under control, the four Straw Hats decided to make their way to Heathers, the south-most island city on the lake, to grab an early dinner in the city's famed restaurant district before heading back to the ferry for the evening. At least, they were trying to, if they didn't have to stop every few seconds to rescue their cook from yet another accident. Sanji was mumbling to himself as he read the time-worn pages of another of his new purchases, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he read, and the many dangers of walking distractedly through the busy streets were lost on him.

"Fishman Island is the antipodes to Reverse Mountain, where the oceans' currents also meet; could that be another possible site?"

Franky steered the cook around an open ditch on the side road and kept him from walking straight into one of the unlit street lamps. "Before you break your face on Geone's architecture, maybe you could leave the research off for later?"

"I'm sorry, guys." He closed the book and hugged it to his chest, to their amusement. "But it's just so close, and I can't afford to go on blind anymore."

"I agree; that last pole nearly took your head off." Usopp snatched the book away and stuffed it into his bag. "Come on, we can help with your research when we get back to the Sunny."

He acquiesced reluctantly, but when their stomachs began grumbling in unison the cook nearly carried them single-handedly across the bridge into the restaurant district, berating himself for failing in his duty as the crew's mother figure all the way.

"Sanji, you're a cook."

"That too."

After a few minutes of his intense scrutiny and evaluation, they chose an elegant, quiet lounge that opened out over the lake, where they settled down to unwind after a long day's excursion. A gentle breeze carried over the waters ruffled the soft, burgundy canopy that covered the balcony, but even outside the cool air didn't bother them. The tiled floor seemed to have been built with some sort of heating system, and it rose up from the ground pleasantly enough that they had removed their outer layers (though Franky was upset that he did  _not_  get to remove his pants).

Franky and Sanji had moved to the bar area to choose out some drinks while they waited for their order, and the shipwright noticed Sanji counting out his spare beli.

"Taking some back for the ship's stores?"

"Yeah, we're kind of dry right now; it's a disgrace."

Franky chuckled, taking a sip from the alcohol that the cook was sampling. "Hey Zoro-bro would love this one."

He stiffened and looked away. "I…yeah, I guess."

"…do you want to tell me what's been going on between you two?"

"Not really."

They sat in an awkward silence while the barkeep wiped across the counter with a wet cloth before moving on down to the other end to attend a new customer. Franky let his gaze glide over the countless labels on the alcohol lining the wall behind the counter, and then Sanji shifted beside him nervously.

"Franky, do you…do you think I was too harsh with him?"

He looked down at the top of Sanji's red cap; even in the warm heated air, his shoulders were trembling. No, that wasn't it. It had nothing to do with the cool evening.

"I mean I…I've said some really awful, shitty things, and I'm such an awful, shitty person-"

"What, you don't think he can't handle what you said?" Franky scowled at the barkeep, his eyes warning the man to keep moving and mind his own business. "Sanji, I heard what he said to you, and that was completely uncalled for. Yes, even last night."

Sanji seemed to wilt in his seat, and the tips of his ears were burning red, but Franky knew he had to say it. Cook-bro couldn't keep thinking these terrible things about himself; it wasn't healthy, and it wasn't like him. He deserved to be as happy as the others were.

"Does everyone know?"

Franky grabbed his shoulders and forced him to turn around. "Curly-bro, I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to really listen to me. It doesn't matter who knows what or when the stories were sold to the press. You two are friends; you're comrades. Fighting with each other…what does that accomplish? Just talk to him. He'll understand."

Sanji averted his gaze and glanced at the nearly untouched glass on the countertop with an unreadable expression. "I'm afraid."

Before Franky could say anything, the others called out to them from the balcony.

"Guys, food's here!"

He cursed the server's bad timing and tried to hold the cook back so they could talk a little longer, but Sanji had already started heading back to the table. Resigned, he swallowed down the rest of the sake and followed him out to the balcony.

Dinner was a cheery affair, and they played catch-up with each other, exchanging accounts of their day out on the Inner Cities, but Sanji remained unusually quiet throughout the meal. He slipped the tangerines from his salad onto Nami's plate and let Usopp help himself to the sweetened almonds and spinach leaves, and when they were done he was still picking listlessly at his own food. Franky frowned; what had happened to the enthusiastic Sanji that had waxed poetic about his dream of finding the All Blue? The young man who looked like he could conquer the world by sheer will alone?

And then a light clicked on in his head.

Franky stood up and excused himself quietly, leaving his confused crewmates behind without explanation. He quickly found what he was looking for, the source of the lounge's soft, classy music. The pianist looked skeptical at first, but Franky didn't care as long as he played along for the evening.

"Evening, gentlefolks. Er, sorry to interrupt your usual fare, but tonight a certain group of dreamers is gonna steal the show."

Nami glared at him over her glass of wine. "I'm giving him ten seconds to get down from there."

"No, wait. I wanna see where he's going with this." Usopp grinned, leaning forward in his seat.

The shipwright gave them a knowing wink and tapped his foot along to the piano's easy tune, and suddenly they knew what he was going to do.

_"Life out here can get you down, and sometimes you think you've lost your way…"_

Nami sat up straight. "Get him down from there."

_"And I know it's easy to take it slow, when every day is the very last day…"_

He held his hand out to Sanji, who smiled sheepishly at everyone in the room and sank down in his seat.

_"Come on, Cook-bro, you don't have time to mess around, when you're going to where you've found-"_

Nami growled. "If he thinks he's dragging us into some half-baked musical number, he's got another thing coming."

She found herself sitting at an empty table, and when she next glanced up at the stage, Sanji was hesitantly climbing up, with some encouraging nods from Franky and Usopp, and Nami couldn't help but smile when he spoke.

" _People will say I'm crazy,"_  he grinned, and Franky nudged him gently into the spotlight.  _"That I'm only chasing a fairytale_."

_"Tch, on the impossible sea of dreams, how can you possibly fail?"_

His eyes lit up when Nami stood up and walked across the stage towards him, blushing furiously as everyone's stares fell on her. So much for laying low. But as the band struck up to match the pianist's melody, and Franky belted out a fine chorus about finding the All Blue (seeing as he had just made it up on the spot), Nami knew that it was worth it just to see the look on Sanji's face as he sang about his dream, and soon enough Usopp and Nami had joined in with their own dreams, easily forgetting the embarrassment and stage fright that should have kept them back.

 _"Of course, the storms on the sea are rough and cruel, and I've also had my share."_  Sanji sighed into the microphone, chuckling as Usopp and Franky pretended to swoon.  _"But I've found a crew rarer than any jewel, and we're almost there."_

They could have kept singing and dancing the whole night, but somewhere along the second stanza, the shrill whistle of the ferry's last call cut through their merriment, and the Straw Hats jumped down and tore out of the restaurant, shouting out an apology to the restaurant's clientele.

"The Foolish Dreamers, everyone!" Franky yelled over his shoulder, bringing up the rear with Nami's and Usopp's combined packs. "Thank you for having us!"

The sniper glanced back worriedly, helping Sanji carry the timber as they ran through Heathers' winding streets. "I think I left my money at the table, guys."

"It's okay, I forgot to pay anyway!" Franky laughed, and soon they were howling with laughter down the streets, singing the chorus to their song as they barely (just barely) made it onto the ferry before it departed.

"We are the biggest, craziest dorks ever!" Nami giggled between pants, leaning heavily on Sanji's arm after dropping her burden onto the platform. "We can't even sing!"

"You know they loved us anyway," Usopp coughed, drinking down half the water in his bottle in one gulp. "We had fun, at least."

"I love you guys so much!" Sanji chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. He sank down on the edge of the platform and grinned up at Franky, giving him a look that said  _thank you_. Franky knew it wasn't much, but he wanted to show Sanji that whether it was singing in front of a fancy restaurant or finding a fairytale ocean, or talking with Zoro, he would be able to do anything he put his mind to.

"We love you too, Cook-bro."

Usopp plopped down next to them with Nami, and maybe they were a little tipsy and more than too enthusiastic, but they broke out into another round for the ride home.

_"Even on the rolling seas,_

_My friends and I will make it through._

_Go and laugh, say what you please._

_I'm almost there, I'm almost there._

_This is the crew of the foolish dreams,_

_Onward to the Great All Blue!"_

* * *

Luffy tore into the steaming hot sea king steak on his plate, courtesy of the Lathos' cook Mikolo, and he said that if he didn't already have a crew of his own he would have invited Mikolo to join them on the Sunny. The brown-haired pirate laughed and told him to stop being such a flatterer.

"You already have Sanji on your crew, and he's one of the finest cooks I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

The Straw Hats captain shrugged and continued eating. "I'm a greedy person; more is better."

Captain Thaddeus chuckled. "Trying to make off with my cook, captain? I'd make you walk the plank for that if I didn't know that you're a Hammer."

"Hahaha, I can't even take a bath without half-drowning before someone comes to fish me out." Luffy grinned and threw his arm around Zoro, who ended up spilling half of his drink into Brook's plate. "But I  _am_  lucky to have Sanji, and the rest of my crew, who usually end up with  _that_  job. You're right; they're enough."

Thaddeus nodded thoughtfully. "It's easy to forget something so important. You're a good captain who watches out for his crew, and that's why I wanted to talk to you today. About your cook."

Robin glanced up from her own plate, catching her crewmates' gazes, but Luffy just nodded without concern. "Is there a problem with Sanji?" she asked, setting her spoon down into the clear consommé in her bowl and giving Thaddeus a questioning frown.

"Yeah, there's something going on with the other pirates on this port."

She looked at her captain in surprise, realizing that she had not been the only one to notice some of the pirate groups watching them with a calculating, suspicious look.

"That pirate your cook befriended is a dangerous man, but a powerful one." Thaddeus nodded at his first mate, and the man brought him a worn map, which he spread out before the Straw Hats. "Do you see these white areas on the charts?"

The map he showed them was a careful depiction of the Red Line, all around to the other end of the world. Most of the land on the continent was shaded in black, though along the Grand Line and the many islands in the other Blues were in various other colors, and there was a distinct lack of color around the area where the Red Line intersected the Grand Line.

"Those areas are where he doesn't have control or an alliance with the nation on the map."

Brook frowned in confusion. "But that means that all of this…"

"Belongs to him, in one way or another. Either through conquest or treaty, he spreads his influence as he pleases."

"Who is this bastard anyway?" Zoro growled, leaning forward to look at the map. "And what is he after?"

"Khalashtrogos of the Red Line, the last living sovereign of his home country of Ul-Ezeabaqui. They are a bloodthirsty, wild band of people, though usually they stay to their land-bound areas. If he's come out to sea it means he's after new conquests."

"But what do they want?" Chopper whimpered, quivering behind Robin tearfully. The young woman patted his head gently and pulled him closer. "What's he gonna do to Sanji?"

"With your crew…with your cook, probably nothing. Last night was surely just a little bit of amusement and distraction. Seeing as you are just another group of pirates passing along near his territory, he'll just let you go on your way."

"The other crews probably don't see it that way." Robin pointed out, reminding them of the way Khalashtrogos' men had monopolized all of Sanji's time last night. "If they even think that there may be an agreement between us and this man, they could say they're justified in retaliating. An alliance with a man that powerful would be invaluable."

"You mean they would attack us because Curly-cook served them their own  _food_?" Zoro looked like he would need a lot more alcohol in order to process all of this, and she didn't blame him. It was a ridiculous yet terrifying thing to consider.

"I'm not saying they will, but we should be prepared for anything. Men have gone to war for lesser reasons over the course of history." Robin felt weary with the knowledge she had acquired, but even now they could still play it safe and avoid a major conflict. The thing about the past was that everything was obvious in hindsight.  _They say it's twenty-twenty, after all._

Luffy's dark eyes glittered with something dangerous, though his mouth was still smiling.

"Whatever the next few days and weeks bring, we'll handle it. I don't want to bring you into this, Thaddeus."

The captain of the Lathos pirates blinked in surprise at being addressed by his proper name, but then he smiled warmly at Luffy's concern. "I would be honored if you would have me and my crew at your side, whatever the storm brings."

Luffy grinned wider and laughed, sealing the agreement between their two groups, though Robin still felt uneasy about this whole thing. Had Sanji dragged them into something that they couldn't handle?

* * *

They waited on the outskirts of the feast that evening, keeping an eye out for their friends' return from the city. None of the other pirate groups had acted out of the ordinary, but Robin could still easily tell which ones they would need to look out for. She made a mental note to keep her crew as far away as possible from them and hoped that it would be enough.

Khalashtrogos ignored them for the most part, seemingly uninterested once the other pirate crews had started sharing in their banquet, hoping to get on the man's good side. His men tore into the food like animals, and he watched the festivities continue on with a blank expression. She wondered if this man was really as vicious and bloodthirsty as he was rumored to be, but then their eyes met for a split second, and Robin felt a chill run down her spine.

"Hey, are you okay?" Brook sat down beside her and set his violin down on the bench next to her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I-I'm fine." She sighed and glanced at her captain and the others, who were pretending that they weren't still thinking about the conversation with Captain Thaddeus earlier. "I just hope the others got back alright."

They shouldn't have worried. The Booster Shot Four came down the docks in a gleeful, noisy frenzy, leading a group of pirates out from the inner island in a spirited version of "Sweet Home Alabasta".

Franky's loud, powerful voice rang out across the water, and the four of them looked positively ecstatic to see them.

(And maybe a little inebriated).

" _Oiiiii, captain_!"

Luffy smiled in bemusement as the rest of the pirates glanced over at the approaching group, their own celebrations momentarily forgotten.

"Listen,  _listen_ , everyone!"

"The Foolish Dreamers are in the house!" The shipwright mimicked holding a microphone in his hand and gave a great yell. "Ow! Let's get crazy!"

He switched to a new song, stomping out a thumping, crashing beat as he went along, and then Sanji burst forward, leading the group in a wild, rollicking dance. Nami and Usopp waved at them from within the rowdy group of pirates that accompanied them, and were those his own trousers that the shipwright was waving around?

"They are completely smashed." Zoro sounded almost reverent. "I've never seen such a ridiculous sight."

Brook sniffled, wiping at his eyes with a crumpled napkin off the table. "Franky has such a marvelous vocal compass; I think I'm going to cry."

"As irresponsible as it is to drink heavily without a designated sober buddy, I guess it is kind of funny." Chopper giggled, planning out the hangover medication that they were likely to need in the morning. "But they are so going to regret it tomorrow."

Luffy jumped up with a laugh, dragging Brook to the pirate band and urging them to start playing again. "Let's have a real pirate party, guys!"

The party really took off then, because even if they had a million and one problems, though trouble looked to be on the horizon, regardless of what had happened in the past few weeks, their Booster Shot Four was happy, safe, and home, and their good, lighthearted mood was contagious.

They were tireless and energetic, giving them one song after the other, and Sanji was challenging everyone who dared to dance off with him. He shed his outer coat quickly, and after four songs he was shrugging his lighter suit jacket off, loosening the tie at his neck with a tug. With every partner he lost, he gave a long mirthful laugh and moved faster, until Robin began to see sparks at his feet with every step he took. Concerning, but not as intriguing as the fact that after what seemed like an endless dance which no one could keep up with, he collapsed into Zoro's arms with a sloppy grin, shoving his hat on top of the swordsman's head.

Sweat dripped all over his face and left his hair hanging in darkened, damp strands, and he leaned in close to Zoro's face, but Robin couldn't see what he did or said, because Franky chose that moment to belt out a note that had Brook shedding tears ("though I have no tear ducts, ohohoho! Skull" -sniffle-" joke!") and she was left to go drag them off the stage, as no one showed any intent of stopping that night.

She left Sanji to his own devices then; after all, he had sought Zoro out himself. Maybe they could finally get things resolved between them.

* * *

Sanji woke up feeling like his mouth was the Alabasta desert and that he had run his tongue over many, many sand dunes. With a whimper, he rolled over onto his side and braced himself mentally before bringing himself to stand, but a certain obstacle was in his path. He froze, looking at the lump like he could just will it away.

He was still there.

"Oh, God."

Sanji shook his head, but that just made the headache worse, and he nearly vomited right on top of his bedfellow. After he clambered carefully over him, Sanji backed away from Zoro with a horrified expression and a panicked internal mantra of "nope-nope-nope". This was not happening.

He tried desperately to remember the previous night, but the flashes of what came to mind just made his mind scream just a little bit more. Getting uncontrollably drunk. Giving everyone what he remembered suspiciously as a disguised strip tease. Falling into Zoro's arms. His brain shut down after that.

 _Talk to him,_  Franky had said.  _He'll listen to you_ , he said.

This was probably not what he'd had in mind.

Taking a deep breath, Sanji inched closer to the swordsman and peered under the covers. He was still fully dressed.  _And so am I._

So, they hadn't done the…deed, but what had he said to Zoro last night before everything went black? What if he had told him everything and Zoro was disgusted with him? Or worse, what if he pitied him?

_If he ever gets soppy with me, I'll feed him his own teeth for breakfast._

Dragging himself into the bathroom, he wearily stripped down and washed himself off as well as he could while running on empty. At least no one else was up at this hour to watch him have a nervous breakdown over the stupid green marimo's body. Honestly, he was acting like an idiot over this, and not just because he had let his imagination run wilder than Usopp's when he first saw Zoro's scruffy green head next to his (although his heart had yet to slow its rabbit-fast beating). It was likely that nothing had happened last night, nothing at all, and he was simply jumping to conclusions.

Sanji wished that he knew what he had told Zoro, at any rate.

The rest of the night's affairs returned to him after he managed to hold down a cup of tea and some toast in the kitchen, much to his relief.

_You…and me…got to exch-, extorn-, eches-…do the word thing. I give you words and you give me words. Got it, Marimo?_

Besides sounding like he was having his brain leak out of his ears, he had said nothing incriminating or inappropriate, and he was going to be able to get out of this situation unscathed. All he had to do was wait until Zoro woke up, and then he just had to open his mouth. And. Talk.

Sanji looked wearily out of the porthole at the empty, silent docks. Dawn was still hours away, but he could see a few of the lanterns from last night still glowing weakly along the walkways. The platform that they had danced on had scorch marks, and he wondered how close he had been to  _Diable Jambe_ -ing the entire port. He was never going to drink that much ever again, he vowed, letting his head rest against the window pane.

Something caught his eye out on the deck, and he shuffled out miserably into the cold morning air to the edge of Sunny's bow, where a pile of bags and clothes lay abandoned on the floorboards. Some of them were his, he realized, but at least he still had his pants on. He gave Franky's trousers a disappointed look and dug around for his coat, deciding that he really just wanted a cigarette right now.

Instead of his pack of cigarettes or his lighter, he found a crumpled piece of paper in the inner pocket of his coat; he frowned, trying to remember if he had put it there himself. No, all of his notes were in the pack downstairs, in the sleeping quarters.

Sanji's eyes widened when he read the hastily scrawled message, and he glanced out at the empty piers, searching for someone who was probably long gone by now. He didn't know who they were or what they wanted, or how they had even gotten this into his jacket. There was one thing he  _was_  certain of:

These morons had just threatened his crew, and they were going to  _pay_.


	5. My life is forfeit!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji stares into the face of his nightmares, and the abyss stares back. And offers a rosy outlook on life? Meanwhile, the other Straw Hats discuss the legality of a will that may never be written and Brook finds humor in the tedium of waiting.

A heavy fog hung over the harbor that morning, the perfect cover for what he was planning to do. Sanji crept down to the rocky shore off the docks, tugging the hood of his robes forward as far as it would go and hunching his shoulders to hide his face from any potential onlookers. Staithe Wharf was still deep in sleep as most of the pirate crews wouldn't be up for hours, but he couldn't risk getting caught if someone saw him and mentioned it to his crew. They would be furious with him, but there was no way he could bring them along for this.

The flat-deck skiff cut through the waters easily, and Sanji hoped that the wind would hold out long enough for him to clear the docks. He frowned when the sail was dealt a sudden heavy blow; the air around him was thick with energy and tension. Terrible weather for sailing, and he wondered if the Sunny's departure would be affected that afternoon when they left Staithe Wharf.

The Thousand Sunny's bow loomed dangerously close to his starboard, and he realized the wind current would take him straight into the ship. Growling, he kicked the collapsible sail down and leaned back, dragging the side of the sleek boat up and over, and both cook and skiff vanished underwater.

Sanji took a deep breath when he resurfaced, laughing softly at his luck. The boat's velocity had carried him underneath the bow and right into the sea current he had been looking for.

"Not bad for a tiny old dinghy with a makeshift sail," he chuckled, brushing wet strands of hair from his face before adjusting his hood again. His good mood was superficial; the note he found not an hour ago was still tucked into the folds of his clothes and reminded him why he was out here in the first place. The sail went up again, and Sanji coasted along the island's shore smoothly before taking the boat away from Staithe, and he didn't look back at the Sunny once.

_Sorry, everyone. I think I need to do this alone._

* * *

Zoro gave a deep yawn as he stretched his arms over his head, wincing when he felt the uncharacteristic stiffness still lingering in his body. He should have recovered from Thriller Bark by now, but even the lightest training reps sent spasms through his muscles, and he wasn't keen on working himself into unconsciousness, not when Chopper had just given him the okay to return to what he called Zoro's "insanity exercises". Enforced bed rest was not how he planned to spend their time in the New World; the cook would laugh his head off all the way to Raftel and back. He would never let him live it down.

He glanced at the empty space beside him, grinning as he remembered last night's celebrations where Sanji had bested the entire port's pirate population in a dance off after practically marinating himself in alcohol. If anything, he was even more energetic and agile while intoxicated, and as tireless as their captain on a good day. He had let the cook dance to his heart's content, even when the docks had threatened to ignite underneath his feet.

When he had started to pull his clothes off to catch the attention of God-knows-who, Zoro had intervened, knowing that leaving Curlybrow to wake up naked on the pier would be a terrible idea for many reasons; close quarters on the open sea were already uncomfortable enough without the cook's whining.

Besides, comrades watched out for each other, he told himself as he had made his way through the crowd towards Sanji, who had somehow managed to remove his suit coat and shirt while leaving his suspenders and tie in place. And there was no way he was going to leave him at the mercy of pirates who didn't seem to have many scruples when it came to copping a feel off a person so drunk he couldn't even stand anymore.

That had been scary, admittedly; none of their other crewmates seemed to have noticed, or they were too occupied somewhere else to be of any help, so when Sanji staggered into his arms it had come as a relief instead of annoyance. The other pirates had backed off, but not before shooting Zoro dirty looks as they left, and Zoro was left with an armful of drunk, cheery cook to drag back to the ship.

 _Yeah, we'll do the word thing_ , he had promised Sanji, and then the cook had finally passed out, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was a filthy, sweaty mess (and after this he wasn't going to let the prissy cook ever complain about his post-workout state at the kitchen table), but Zoro didn't even care because after several weeks of unbearable tension and avoiding each other at every turn, Sanji actually wanted to talk things over.

"You really are more trouble than you're worth, shit-cook," he muttered fondly before getting up to go find him in the galley. This talk was long overdue.

Instead, he found the rest of his crew sitting in the kitchen in a somber silence that could have been taken straight from a funeral, and he knew why. Franky was slumped before the coffee brewer with a handful of coffee beans slowly trickling out of his outstretched hand, an offering to the machine that would grant him the small mercy of caffeine in the morning. Most of the ground coffee ended up on the floor.

Nami was on her back by the lounge, a damp towel thrown carelessly over her eyes, and every so often a soft, weak moan gave away her living status. Usopp was next to her on one of the stools, actually crying into his hands while Robin rubbed his back soothingly. Luffy and Brook were curled up by the stove in the corner, each cradling a large bump on the head (they had probably ticked off the Booster Shot Four).

"Hangover city," he muttered, and the three suffering members of his crew cringed simultaneously.

" _Keep it down, bastard_."

Zoro held up his hands in surrender and headed to the pantry instead, still hoping to find the cook. However, if he was in as much pain as the other three, then he didn't actually expect to get much talking done this morning. The backroom was empty, with only a few empty packs from yesterday's supply run stashed into the bottom shelf of the pantry and a long-forgotten pack of cigarettes underneath the confectioner's sugar.

"Oi, where's the shit-cook gone?"

He ignored the pitiful whimpers that his shout was met with and looked at Robin for answers.

"I believe he is going through inventory in the stores before we depart from Staithe in the afternoon. Disturbing him would be inadvisable."

"At least that's what the note said," Chopper added brightly as he entered the room with a few glasses of some strangely colored concoction and a bottle of pills. "I hope he got the medicine I left out for him, otherwise that hangover will knock him flat in seconds."

"Chopper, help me." Nami's voice was tremulous as she reached pleading hands out to the doctor. "I can't feel my brain anymore."

"I hope you've all learned a valuable lesson today," Chopper said in a stern tone, and they all nodded eagerly as he handed them one of the glasses and a couple of pills each.

"Never drink Staithe moonshine bought off a creepy old man on the Nells pier," they chorused, and Chopper's shoulders slumped. He had been hoping they would say something about the risks of indulging in too much recreational drinking or about keeping themselves hydrated between alcoholic beverages.

"It's a start, I guess."

Chopper's cure worked beautifully, and soon they were back to their normal selves, albeit a bit unsteady on their feet. Nami was distributing their new supplies and purchases among the others, and even some of the things on their "wish list" had made their way into the packs. But Franky's gift for their captain definitely took the cake.

"Guys!" Luffy yelled, holding up his newest possession with a feverish excitement, nearly trembling with joy. "Look, I have a Monkey!  _And he has a straw hat!_ "

The little red plush toy surprisingly resembled their captain, right down to the scar under his left eye and a wide, manic grin that matched his own. Luffy somehow managed to wrap the plush's arms around his neck and paraded around the kitchen merrily, showing off his new "Monkey Junior".

"Where did you even find that thing, Franky?" Nami laughed and gave the little monkey's tail a gentle tug, to Luffy's displeasure. "It looks just like him."

"I told you Sky Mall has everything," the shipwright grinned, holding out a brightly colored brochure filled with pictures of stuffed toys. All of them were exclusively monkeys. "There was this store I found called Monekijns, where they can make anyone you want their own personalized monkey. It's got really dumb and cutesy names like 'primation nation' and 'simian formation', but I couldn't get Luffy out of my mind and I got this one for him."

"Behold, the heir to my estate. My legacy will continue."

Brook frowned. "That doesn't sound legally possible, Luffy. You can't name a plush as your beneficiary in your will because he can't consent to receipt of his share."

"Actually, if the beneficiary doesn't outright decline a share in the will, then whatever Luffy decides to gift him will be presumed his."

"However, Usopp, you  _could_  contest the legality of the will on the basis that the recipient is not a legally recognized person or organization."

"That depends on your definition of person, Nami. Our captain could put in an explicative addendum to the will, declaring Junior as his beneficiary."

"It's really complicated, even for me. For example, as a reindeer with the Human-Human Fruit, I could fall under the category of a being with personhood, or even under the pet clause, as condescending as that is. And that's not even counting the fact that the estate of a pirate is already a problematic legal matter in itself."

"Are you actually arguing the technicalities of a nonexistent will that Luffy might never write because he suggested he wants to leave everything he owns to a  _stuffed animal_?"

Franky glared furiously at all of his crewmates, who just blinked back sheepishly from their circle at the table. Legal books were spread out before them, already marked up with pen and highlighter streaks.

Zoro shook his head. "What does Luffy even own, anyway?"

They all turned their gaze at the captain, who was curled up on his side with Monkey cradled lovingly in his arms.

Luffy looked up at all of them with a disappointed expression. "Leave me and my heir apparent alone, you jealous meanies."

* * *

The barrier island off of Staithe Wharf's main coast once held a full-scale amusement park, with two main docking piers for tourists to disembark and enter the fairgrounds. Now, the place lay in a forlorn, neglected state, and its former glory was lost to time and memories; a thick coating of dirt had hardened over the once bright and expansive rides, wild vines and grasses sprung up from the broken concrete, and wreckage from the dilapidated buildings that had survived the ocean's harsh storms littered the ground. The grand sign at the park's entrance had been bleached by sun and sea, and its name had long since faded away.

Sanji picked his way through the debris carefully, using an old broken figure's head to pull himself up onto the platform. His Alabasta robes snagged on the cracked edge of the clown's teeth, and he grimaced when he looked down at the grotesque face beneath him. It was hard to imagine that the clown had ever been pleasant to look at.

The message had requested that he meet this bastard at the docks on the ocean side of the island, but following the directions laid out for him in the note was a stupid move, and he would rather get some investigating done. There was no need to get the rest of his crew involved just yet, not when they would just get in the way of reconnaissance.

They were hiding in the bumper cars arena, a three-man band of bandits that he couldn't even muster up the effort to fight (strangely, they called themselves the Flying Fish Riders, which had to be one of the weirdest names for a group of men who looked like they would be more at home in a motorcycle gang than with anything related to the sea). They were discussing the food at some fishman's seaside stand, and none of them had any visible weapons on them. Had this whole thing just been a ruse?

His further searching provided nothing else but a couple of broken saddles abandoned on the inner coast of the island, and a large bag of grains and grasses stored away behind the bumper cars storage. He was almost disappointed, and more than upset at the fact that these hooligans had sent him a threatening letter that had set him off so badly it had been enough to bring him out all the way to this abandoned park.

Turning to leave, he figured that he had enough time to make his crew a real breakfast when he got back, but a sudden movement froze him in his tracks.

One of the men leaned back in his seat, propping his legs up on the hood of a car. "Poor sap's already let his guard down…"

The others burst into laughter, and Sanji felt his blood run cold.

He had just enough time to turn around and brace himself for the impact as a furious gale slammed into him, clawing at his robes and tearing his hood back. When the wind finally died down, Sanji opened his stinging eyes and looked around frantically for his attacker,.

"Oh no, he's so much hotter in person."

Sanji blinked. "What?"

"What."

The other bandits looked at the wall in confusion. "Um, boss. We can all hear you."

There was a muffled curse, and after a couple of loud thumps and stomps a figure stepped out from the shadows, draped in a long, flowing cape. "Well, fuck me. So much for the big entrance."

Sanji tilted his head, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out if he was being pranked or something.

"Anyway…" The man stepped forward into the light and lifted his head, the heavy iron mask on his face gleaming with his every movement. "Black Leg Sanji, you have ruined my very existence. Prepare to die."

As far as murderous, raging stalkers are concerned, Sanji really seemed to have the pick of the lot. Really, when the man whose sole purpose in life is to end yours chooses to drag you out to an abandoned amusement park to murder you violently among the shattered clown heads of fury and despair, you know that you have a keeper.

The bumper car aimed at his head was a nice touch, of course.

Sanji ducked out of the building through the beautiful new hole in the wall, while Iron Mask and his goons shoved through the mess of bumper cars strewn across the arena; at least that gave him a precious few moments to look for a way out of this place.

He briefly considered trying to stand his ground and fight, but after they started throwing the clown heads  _at_  him, he decided that he was done with these guys.

The undergrowth was really heavy in this section, but it offered a good cover for Sanji as he crept away from the Flying Fish Riders and the creepy man in the iron mask. They ran right past his hiding spot behind the collapsed lean-to near the concession stands on the west side of the park, and the cook sighed in relief when their shouts had faded away. Now, he just needed to get his bearings and come up with a plan for facing them; he had faced bigger, uglier bastards before.  _Kick and run, Sanji_. Easy enough.

"I think he's close by; there's no way he left the island."

Shit, he thought they were gone already.

As he backed away from the man's voice, he stumbled into something and fell over with a yelp, clapping a hand over his mouth much too late to muffle the sound.

A loud clank resounded in the cramped space he found himself in, and then the whole place started moving shakily. Sanji sat up gingerly, rubbing the bump on his head and looking around for Iron Mask and his friends.

He was sprawled out in the back seat of one very battered roller coaster car, legs akimbo, and the whole train was  _moving_.

"How the hell does this thing still have power?"

"There he is!"

The man stalked towards him on the roller coaster tracks, slinging a heavy gun over his shoulder with one hand as though it was made of foam. Or cotton candy, which was fitting given that they were in an amusement park.

"Black Leg, I never took you as the type to run away," the man chuckled, taking his time to lift the gun with a lazy, unhurried aim. "But I won't let you live, not after the grievous wound you have dealt me, or my name isn't Iron Mask Duval!"

Several huge harpoons drove into the tracks behind the train, and Sanji grunted when the car slammed right into them, unable to continue further up the tracks. Smoke quickly began to build up under the hood of the first car from the exertion, and he climbed up onto the steep slope and shoved his foot between the harpoons and the car's bumper.

"I don't remember what kind of injury I gave you, bastard," he growled as he braced himself against the metal rods, "But if you're still alive, then it can't have been as bad as what I'm about to do to you now!"

He kicked out as hard as he could, and the cars nearly ripped off the tracks as they barreled down towards Duval. The man leapt over them and began sprinting up the slope after him, leaving Sanji to turn and retreat further up the tracks for better footing; there was no way he could fight on a rickety, narrow surface like this without falling over the edge.

"No, of course you wouldn't remember, but I will make you know my pain before you die!" Iron Mask shouted, firing several more harpoons at him, which he dodged with a twist and spring of his wrist. Landing lightly on the tracks, he whirled around and let Iron Mask continue running towards him; all he needed was one good opening to bring this guy down.

"You're pretty cocky, but can you actually go hand-to-foot against me?" Sanji called down, cringing inwardly at the sight of the expressionless iron mask staring straight back at him. It was unnerving to have to fight an opponent whose face he couldn't see.

"I'll do even better and go head-to-foot with you, you cretin!"

"That…doesn't make sense."

The explosion caught them both off guard, and Sanji was thrown into the broken tracks with enough force to knock the wind from him. Somewhere in the shockwave, he felt his shoulder twist underneath him as he skidded off the tracks, but his other hand shot out just in time to grab the end of the broken rail, and he found himself dangling over the edge of a fifty-meter drop over nothing but solid concrete.  _Fuck._

"Idiots! I told you to wait until after I got down to blow this thing apart!"

Iron Mask tumbled down what was left of the incline and hurtled into the other three men, and they vanished from Sanji's line of sight into the underbrush, but he had more important things to worry about. His right shoulder was throbbing painfully and he was fast losing his grip on the jagged edge of the rail. Sweat slicked his fingers and he dug his palm into the metal desperately.

"Come on…please hold out…"

The roller coaster shuddered and gave a low, painful groan, and then the whole thing began to fall apart.

No…no… _no!_

His fingers slipped away from the rail, and Sanji gave a sharp cry as he plummeted downward into the crumbling debris of the roller coaster.

* * *

Zoro glanced up from his corner of the room where he was polishing his blades with his new sword kit from City Mall's Iron Steele, courtesy of their sniper.

"Do you feel like we should be somewhere important right now?"

The others were spread out across the recreation room where they had taken shelter from the stormy weather; each of the pirates was preoccupied with their own gifts and purchases from the island. Usopp fiddled with a strange new kit on the couch, while Nami and Robin had buried themselves in a pile of new books and various stationery ("the pink bunnies represent the lost souls of the men indebted to me"), and Chopper was ecstatic with the sweets and journals he had received (he was cross referencing many of his notes from older journals while popping chocolates into his mouth after every turn of the page). Brook's music drifted through the room, playing the newest single by his favorite group, the West Blue's pop sensation Svenbalt, and he and Franky tinkered with one of the gear sets that they planned to use to patch up the old piano in the storage.

Their captain shrugged from where he sat in the middle of the floor, stroking Monkey's furry red head with a practiced air of authority.

"I dunno."

* * *

Sanji ran across the rickety rooftop of the shooting gallery, hoping that he wouldn't break his legs while trying to escape from Iron Mask and his crew. His shoulder had gone stiff and hurt with every jolting step he took; there was no way he was going to be able to withstand anything more than the most basic of his attacks against these guys. He was beginning to wish that he had brought at least  _one_  of his crewmates along with him.

_Damnit, Sanji; you really messed up this time._

One of the cotton candy booths at the corner of the street exploded, and the cook found himself being chased by a  _flying fish_  all the way to the kiddie ride section of the park.  _Oh, so that's why they're called the Flying Fish Riders._

Iron Mask and his men launched a merciless attack on him from the air, and he was forced into one of the half-collapsed buildings just to be able to catch his breath. Muffling his breaths as well as he could in the dusty, stale air of the house, Sanji glanced outside and wondered why the attacks had stopped. When he turned around, he found himself face to face with an iron mask.

"Shit."

He tore into the building with the man close at his heels, running down the narrow hallways straight into a dead end. The cook stopped and turned around, looking everywhere for Iron Mask, but all he was met with was a curtain of cobwebs and some horrifyingly huge spiders. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he held back a scream and wondered if this was how everything was going to end for him, alone at the mercy of a murderer and with only a trio of ugly hairy spiders to witness his death.

Just as a particularly friendly spider brushed its leg against his tear-streaked cheek, the lights came on in the building, and the spiders immediately retreated, leaving him standing alone in the brightly lit corridor. Wherever he looked he ended up staring at his own panicked reflection on the walls. Mirrors?

"Black Leg, get out here and face me like a man!"

The Hall of Mirrors spiraled and twisted like a maze, and Sanji knew that he could use this to his advantage. Iron Mask was huge and moving around in these close quarters was going to be difficult for him. With a grin, he retraced his steps and slipped down a new pathway, using the man's angry shouts to choose his course and avoid him. All he had to do was get into the space behind Iron Mask's mirrors…

"Is this really the guy who's worth seventy-seven million? Get out, you coward!"

Sanji inhaled deeply, shifting his weight in the cramped space to try to give himself some room to move. What a bastard, he wouldn't even face the cook without those crazy flying fish guys to back him up. The iron mask was right in front of him now, and then Sanji broke through the barrier, a rain of glass and twisted metal falling around him.

Both men stared silently into opposite mirrors, ears ringing from the impact.

And then Sanji let out a blood-curdling scream.

* * *

Brook burst out laughing in the middle of a violin piece he was working on; he was shaking so badly that he had to put his instrument down and sit.

Everyone gave him a bewildered look.

"What's so funny, Bones-bro?"

The musician chuckled and wiped away mirthful tears, shaking his head as though he had just thought of the most amusing joke. "Have you ever wondered if someone that looks like Sanji's wanted poster actually exists?"

They all considered it for a moment, and even Luffy gave it some thought. "Eh, that would have to be one sad man. I hope they never meet; Sanji would probably cry."

Brook howled with laughter.

* * *

The beach was empty and barren, cracking underneath his shoes with every step he took. Sand had baked and hardened under the harsh sun, and it offered him a purchase for his feet, at the very least. His thoughts, however, were a whirlwind of frustration and despair, and he couldn't get the image of his wanted poster's face glaring at him from all directions in the park's mirror house.

Sanji whirled around to glare at the man who wore the face that he hated the most in the world, and Iron Mask Duval retorted that he could say the same of him.

 

"After all this time-"

 

"I never could have imagined-"

 

"Even in my dreams it was almost impossible-"

 

"What my nightmares have brought forward-"

 

"Meeting you is all I have lived for-"

 

"Forgetting you is all I wanted-"

 

"And yet now, I only have one thought-"

 

" _How dare you look upon me with that face!_ " They shouted at each other.

 

To Sanji's surprise, tears began to well up in Duval's eyes, and he let out a horrible wail. His men sobbed with him, crying about the horrible pain he had wrought on their beloved leader.

"What are you talking about? I don't even know you."

"Shut up and think for a moment, moron!" The man drew out a copy of Sanji's bounty poster, and the cook instinctively recoiled and hissed at it. "Look at our faces, and then look at the poster. Who do you think the Marines are going to go after?"

Guilt coiled in Sanji's stomach, and he looked at the battered, worn men before him. He hadn't considered what the existence of that face would mean in real life. They must have been dragged into a fugitive lifestyle when his bounty was first posted, and Sanji had been none the wiser.

"I used to live such a happy and carefree life back in my hometown, before you became a pirate big shot and ruined everything."

Oh, now he  _really_  felt bad.

He sighed wistfully and clutched the paper to his chest. "People would cower before me as I extorted money from them, and my presence inspired respect and fear from everyone around me. Now, I have to hide my face in shame and fear of being captured by the Marines again. The life I knew and loved is gone, all thanks to you."

Sanji glared at him, completely unimpressed. All his sympathy had evaporated instantly. "So you were a bully, huh?"

"That doesn't mean I deserved to be imprisoned unfairly like that! I-I-I…I ain't even a pirate!"

"True, but a man always reaps what he sows." Sanji crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "Consider that payback for what you've done to the innocent people in your village. Act like a criminal, get treated like one."

"Fine, I kin accept that, but I came out 'ere to kill you, not t' blather like a pair o' grannies!" Duval stuck two of his fingers into his mouth and let out a long, piercing whistle. "Motobaro, trumple 'im like the roach 'e is."

Sanji furrowed his brow; Duval's accent had gotten thicker and more confusing as his anger increased, but then what he had said became very clear to the cook.  _So that's what they needed the grass clippings for._

Motobaro was a huge beast of a bison, barreling into Sanji at full speed before he even knew what was going on. Hitting the ground with a loud thump, Sanji rolled over just in time to avoid being trampled, and he stood up shakily as the animal turned around to charge again. The pain in his chest told him he had definitely broken something; another of those attacks would probably shatter his ribcage.

Glancing around quickly as he dodged the bison's rampage, Sanji noticed the old wood pilings out on the rough surf of the ocean, and he ran out into the choppy waves before leaping up onto the nearest one with a splash. Out on the beach, Motobaro let out a low groan and stomped his feet.

"Shit, that thing's scary," he chuckled weakly, holding his side in pain. "How'd you get him all the way across the water?"

Duval smirked and nodded at his bison proudly. "He swims."

"What?"

The bison rammed into the first piling with a deafening roar, sending it into the sea with a crash, and Sanji just managed to throw himself against the second.

"Oh, come  _on_!"

"Tch, they give anyone a bounty these days."

Sanji's voice was low and dangerous. "What did you say, Black Leg wannabe?"

Duval screamed, and he launched himself at the closest pole in the water. His men tried to stop him but he had already drawn out his own weapon. "Motobaro, this 'un's mine!"

"Feeling lucky, I see. Give up while you can, Duval; I'm not the type of guy who holds back."

"M' life's already forf'it, with th' Tyrant after yer sort; I kin at least take y'all with me!"

A barrage of harpoons embedded themselves into the rotting wood, and Sanji knew that the dock pilings would not hold for long. He dodged and twisted with every attack, edging closer and closer so he could take this guy down, but then he misjudged Duval's next move.

Pain erupted in his side, and Sanji stared in disbelief at the blossoming red stain on his blue robes. Blood oozed between his fingers, dark and sticky, as he held his side protectively. Several meters behind him, buried deep within the pole, was a long, smoking harpoon pinning a strip of blue cloth to the dock piling. It had been poisoned, he realized dully, watching the waters stain purple and red.

"Scorpion's Poison harpoons are my specialty," Duval said as he strolled calmly towards him on the wood pilings. "They have a little  _kick_  that you might like."

How dare he.

Sanji's foot slammed right into the man's face, and he hooked his other foot into the harpoon gun's strap, wrenching it away from Duval's grasp; with a grunt, he kicked him straight in the middle of his chest, knocking him against several of the pilings before he managed to pull himself back up.

"You're going to die, bastard!"

"You're the one who forced me to retaliate, idiot!" Sanji's side was going numb, and between the nasty harpoons and the nastier puns, he found the whole thing so disconcerting. He had to end the fight now, before the poison spread any further. "It's not like I even did anything; if you had wanted to avoid getting caught, you could have just changed your appearance like a normal person instead of hiding under a stupid iron mask!"

That made Duval pause in thought, and he tapped his chin with his fingers lightly. "That would have worked, too…why didn't I think of that?"

Sanji threw himself at the man with a scream of rage.

* * *

He might have gotten a little too enthusiastic with the kicking. And maybe the wooden dock pilings ended up collapsing underneath them. So the bastard wasn't conscious enough to swim back up to the surface, so what?

Sanji grit his teeth as he hauled Duval out of the water towards his men, who had burst into tears again over their fallen leader's injuries.

"Boss, are you okay?"

"Say something to us, chief."

"We need a doctor!"

Sanji glared at the unconscious man, willing him to wake up. Duval lay motionless on the dry, parched earth, water dripping off of him and into the thirsty ground. He showed no signs of life.

The bastard's damned cow gave a soft keening cry, and Sanji sighed heavily.

"God damn the day I was born." He leaned over the man and began to push down on the center of his chest, trying to remember what Chopper had showed the crew on the day of their mandatory first aid classes (it had gone as well as every other Straw Hats venture, but at least he had learned something from it). Tilting his chin up and forcing his mouth open, Sanji took a deep breath and blew into his mouth, praying to every deity that he could ever remember even  _hearing_  about to please, please let the man wake up now.  _Please_ , goddamnit all to hell in a handbasket.

After an eternity of hell, Duval's chest rose on its own, and the man began to cough up sea water by the mouthfuls, and Sanji wondered if he had swallowed half of the Grand Line while underwater. He turned a starry-eyed gaze on Sanji, and the cook swallowed back the bile in his throat. He was not about to be hit on by a man two-and-a-half times his size.

(Who was a man. As in  _not_  a beautiful lady.)

"You…are one…bodacious…dame..."

Yep. This was his life. Before Sanji could muster up the energy for a scathing retort, his vision darkened and he almost fell over on top of Duval, who sat up immediately with a look of horror on his face. "Whoa, not on me, you idiot!"

"Boss, he saved your life! That guy's not all that bad."

His men were wiping away heartfelt tears, and Duval seemed to be considering something. He reached into a pouch in his jacket and drew out a little vial filled with a blood orange colored liquid. Popping the cap off, he plunged what felt like a needle tip into Sanji's leg, and in response he brought his fist up against Duval's chin with a satisfying crack.

Duval groaned through his fingers. "That's the antidote to my poison, you jerk."

"Oh." Sanji stared down at the little vial as it emptied out into his body. The reaction was almost instantaneous, and he felt a gentle warmth spread up his leg and into his torso, pooling around the injury in his side. "You could have said something."

"Gahhh…"

"Sorry." (He wasn't sorry.)

"Wait…what did you do to my  _face_?"

Sanji smiled knowingly and closed his eyes, letting the antidote work its way through his body while he rested. "You'll be sore for a week, but with proper hydration and care you'll be as good as new…well, with a new face, anyway. Are you okay with it?"

"I'm  _gorgeous_."

"Let's not get too full of ourselves. You're still the same person inside, and I can't do anything about  _that_."

"Why…why did you save me? I beat you up and poisoned you, Black Leg. I-"

"You're not as bad a person as you pretend to be, Duval." Sanji opened his eyes and gave him a sharp glare. "You've done some pretty shitty stuff, but being locked up for someone else's choices wasn't fair to you. I thought you deserved a second chance. Don't waste it or I'll come after you and give you your old face back."

Duval grinned and drew close to him, to Sanji's dismay ("No, stay back. Seriously, I don't…ugh.") and he threw his arms around him joyfully. "For a pirate, you ain't so bad yerself, Black Leg!"

"I'm very uncomfortable."

"Hahaha, so am I! Awkward group hug, everyone!"

The Flying Fish Riders weren't so bad, once you got past their murderous intent and general criminality. After Duval declared him completely poison-free and cured, they offered to give him a ride back to Staithe, which he had to decline because the fisherman from whom he had stolen his skiff was probably going to be missing the boat by now.

"No, really; we'll give you a quick tow to the port. It's better than fighting this storm out here right now."

That was how Sanji found himself on his little skiff again, flying across the waters at top speed with Duval and his men riding ahead of him in the crashing waves. Motobaro snorted and tossed his head with every splash, but he was leading the group of fish marvelously; Sanji had never seen a land-based animal take to water like this bison.

"You really do meet the strangest creatures out here," he muttered softly, and Duval looked at him curiously. He was surprised that the man actually heard him over the steady roar of the ocean.

"You're not from the Grand Line?"

"East Blue, actually," he called back over the rushing waves, holding onto the boat's makeshift mast for dear life. "I'm a former sous-chef who just ended up running with "the wrong crowd". Our crew has actually only been sailing the Line for a few months."

"What are you doing all the way out here? And as a pirate too?"

"Just chasing a dream. Being a dastardly outlaw is only one of the perks of the journey."

The waters calmed slightly and stopped rocking the boat back and forth long enough for Sanji to fold up the sail he had woven earlier; Luffy's toilet paper had come in handy for something, he thought in amusement, and the funniest thing was that it wasn't actually toilet paper. When he had tried tearing a strip from one of the many baskets they had collected yesterday, the paper wouldn't rip, and he realized that it was actually just an oddly cut mixed blend cloth. Whether the fabric had been mistakenly labeled as toilet paper or if it had been a cover up for a botched cutting job, he would always affectionately call this masterpiece his "toilet paper sail".

(Why yes, he  _was_  a mature young gentleman, thank you kindly.)

Sanji looked out across the water as they approached Staithe Wharf from the south, and his heart gave a joyful leap when he saw the Sunny's lion figurehead illuminated in the morning light. He remembered the note that he had found on the deck of the ship and shot Duval a testy glare. "Just a note of warning, bastard: if you ever threaten to kidnap my friends again, I'll shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be sucking my shoe polish off your teeth for a month."

"When did I do that?" Duval looked over his shoulder at Sanji's scowl, and the cook folded his arms over his chest, tucking the sail under his arm.

"The ominous letter that you wrote on the back of my bounty poster? You know, that you left in my coat last night?"

"Oh,  _that_  note. I just said what I thought a murderous stalker would write. I hope you didn't get too scared."

Sanji gave him an exasperated look. "You wrote, 'Die a free man or die as ransom for your friends. Just die.' How was I supposed to take that?"

Duval rubbed the back of his neck and forced a weak laugh. "I guess I just really got used to extortion and abduction while chasing after you…no, that's not right. I think I've always been nothing more than a criminal."

The cook studied the gloomy frown on his face, and he wondered just how such a dumb softie had ended up as a small-time mafia member, let alone making a name for himself out here as a kidnapping gang leader. Maybe he was just criminally stupid. "You're ashamed of yourself. You know, it's never too late to change. Besides, being a criminal isn't a bad thing if you're not hurting innocent people."

Duval's face brightened, and Sanji pretended that he didn't care what the man thought of himself; he just didn't want him to start crying again. "You're right! With a new face and a second chance, I can do anything with my life now!"

With a genuinely happy laugh, Duval leaned back in the saddle on his bison's back and settled into an easy conversation with the cook; in the background, they could hear his crew babbling on and on about how  _handsome_  their leader was, and what a great turn everything had taken, and wasn't life really rosy after all?

Sanji stared out across the water at the soft pink light breaking through the storm clouds on the horizon with a smile and thought,  _maybe it is_.


	6. The Last Evening

Sanji stashed the robes under the extra blankets in the hall closet; he would see if the damage could be sewn up later, but at least the blood and dirt had come out of the light blue fabric.

 _What a little saltwater and patience can do_ , he marveled, smoothing the wrinkles on the linen cloth with a fond touch. He (and the entire crew, actually) looked forward to the day they would see Vivi-chan again; the princess held a dear place in their hearts, even though they had only traveled together for a brief time. Losing this would have hurt him a lot, and he knew that he needed to find a better way to disguise himself next time something like this came up.  _Maybe a fake beard and moustache combo could work…_

The Sunny was quiet when he crept up from the ship's hold, and the cook wondered if his crew had gone mad with his disappearance and devoured each other out of despair. The clock in the galley only read ten o'clock; they should have had plenty to eat from the breakfast spread he had set out on the kitchen table, even with Luffy's monstrous appetite.

He took the opportunity to sneak into the bathroom to wash up, though the hot bath he wanted would have to wait. If one of the others caught him changing his bandages or saw the black-and-blue spreading along his shoulder blade, they would definitely start asking questions, and frankly, he just wanted to forget the whole bounty poster face-off fiasco. Sneaking off without telling anyone might also set them off; they would probably yell and rant at him for pulling such a stupid stunt by himself.

_Almost losing Usopp in Water 7 was painful enough; I don't need them accusing me of trying to leave them too._

As Sanji wearily climbed up the stairs past the library, the door swung open, and he froze in the glare of the light suddenly pouring out over him.

He was met with the grim, curious stares of a roomful of pirates, both his nakama and some he recognized from Mikolo's crew, but the captain's piercing gaze was all that he could focus on.

Luffy cocked his head and smiled without mirth.

"We need to talk."

* * *

The navigator cursed under her breath as she laid out the maps and charts showing Staithe Wharf and the surrounding waters, quickly scanning over the various landmarks and waterways to orient herself with the layout of the area. Her notes from this morning's readings were spread open on the library's desk, which they had pushed against the conference table for this meeting between the two pirate groups, and the two captains had gathered around the setup with their first mates and navigators, while the rest of the crew had situated themselves around the room

"This doesn't look good, captain," the Lathos navigator muttered, "There is an occluded front developing along the main water route out of the port, and according to Nami's notes, it looks to be a big squall. I wouldn't risk heading out in this weather anyway, and we have another concern as well."

Nami pointed at the water on Staithe's east end, where a strange dotted landmark was labeled in tiny, fine print. "These are the Petalstones, the most deceptively named rock formation I've ever seen. They are anything  _but_  small and delicate, and if the waves don't capsize us outright, the strong winds will smash us right against them."

"We're talking at least thirty meters high, with several underwater outcroppings that could tear our ships' hulls apart." Issok glanced up at the others and furrowed his brow. "Maybe the Sunny could clear it without the Adam wood giving way, but we'd be ripped to shreds in less than nineteen minutes out there."

Franky looked furious at the thought of deliberately putting his beloved ship in harm's way. "How long until the storm passes?"

"Not before noon tomorrow, maybe even later," Nami said, running through her calculations again worriedly. "And we'd be pushing it really close then."

"We don't have time to wait until then, not with these idiots breathing down our necks over that bastard Khala-Shala-whatever." Zoro scowled, standing protectively beside his captain, who had settled down on one of the armchairs and was watching the proceedings with his usual relaxed air. "They'll have time to plan an ambush as soon as we leave the harbor, and we're badly outnumbered."

Thaddeus stared grimly at the charts scattered over the conference table.

"I don't want to give them a chance to attack, either," the Lathos captain said carefully, looking at Luffy to gauge his reaction. "But our navigators don't worry without reason, captain. We'd be rushing to our graves tonight."

The two pirate crews looked at each other in quiet dread; neither option was favorable.

"I-isn't there any way to avoid them? Can't we take a different route?" Usopp was staring at the maps with a fearful look, clutching Chopper tightly to his chest.

Nami sighed. "Not with the present wind patterns and ocean currents. The only way to go is forward, and that'll have to wait until tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest."

"Maybe there is, Nami-swan."

The cook had been silent ever since they told him about Khalashtrogos and the suspicious hostilities coming from some of the other pirate crews on the docks, and his pale face looked almost sallow in the bright lights of the main library area. Right now, though, he had a calculating look in his eyes, and the color had returned to his cheeks. He stepped past the captains and moved his hand across the main map of Staithe Wharf.

"Right along here-" he dragged his fingers over the edge of the water below Staithe Wharf on the map "-there's a reef called Endwolle, and it leads straight into the island's inner bedrock. There's an underwater vent out here by this little barrier island," his finger circled a small elongated shape by Staithe's west end, "which is a part of the reef itself, and the constant convection from the ocean floor creates an irregular current that heads to the southwest."

"…back towards the Florian Triangle?" Nami looked down at the empty blue space under his pointer finger. "But there's nothing on the maps, Sanji-kun. What are you talking about?"

"Right, it's not on the maps because it's an irregular current that can't be detected except by someone who's actually been down there in the reef."

Sanji tapped his finger against the little ellipse next to Staithe.

"Remember the barrier island? That underwater vent close to it actually turns the current in on itself, and it wraps around Staithe Wharf's coast over here and here," he gestured to two separate points on the uneven coastline. "-until it has come around all the way to the island's  _north_  end right there."

"There's a good strong current right along that side towards the Red Line," Nami breathed, leaning in for a closer look. "We could avoid the main waterway by the port and the Petalstones completely!"

She glanced up at him with a scrutinizing frown. "How'd you find this information, Sanji?"

"It came up in my research," the cook said vaguely, but the Booster Shot Four inhaled sharply and shared a knowing grin; they couldn't wait until he told the other about the underground river in the inner island and his dream.

"We'll need a Coup de Burst or two to make it into the wiggly current, but I can fix up something similar for the Black Siet by morning," Franky nodded thoughtfully, looking at the Lathos pirates for permission to work on their ship with them. "It's not going to be easy, but it's doable."

Luffy grinned up at Thaddeus from his perch on the armchair. "Whaddya say, Captain Tad? Still wanna stick with us?"

The large man gave a hearty laugh and nodded at his men. "We're always up for adventure out here; aren't we, men? This has to be one  _crazy_  scheme, but it's our best option for sure."

"Good. It would have been lonely out there without you." Luffy's eyes turned briefly to his cook, and he whined that there had been no hot food for anyone all morning.

"I'll go prepare something for our guests." Sanji turned away and headed for the kitchen, but he seemed to hesitate at the doorway. His shoulders slumped heavily, and Nami moved past Zoro to reach out to him in concern.

"I'm sorry; it seems like I've brought you all nothing but trouble, everyone. I wish you hadn't been dragged into my decision like this."

Nami felt her heart sink. Was he going to take all of the blame himself?

"Sanji-"

He took a deep breath and clenched his fists at his side. "But I want something to be clear to everyone here before we continue: even if given a chance to go back, I would still make the very same choice that night. To me, a hungry man can never be turned away, no matter who he is or what kind of trouble he may bring. I don't regret a single thing I did, and I never will!"

Their captain lowered his head and grinned from under the brim of his hat.

" _Meshi_!"

Sanji stiffened, and everyone else gave each other perplexed looks. Cooked rice? What was Luffy talking about?

Luffy's tone was light and playful, but there was a noticeable seriousness underneath it all.

"You don't have to explain yourself or apologize. If I thought you would ever go back on your resolve, you would still be back on the Baratie right now; I'll never expect anything less than this from the man I chose to be my cook!"

Sanji looked over his shoulder with a brilliant smile and a firm nod. "I'm glad you refused my refusal back then, chore boy," he laughed, striding out of the library with a definite lightness in his step. "Don't come into the kitchen until I call; we're having steak roast tonight."

"…he loves me."

Luffy jumped up from his chair and tore down the hallway after him with a gleeful shout, leaving Nami shaking her head in exasperation and the others to finish up assigning the preparations for tomorrow's departure. Zoro groaned and followed their captain into the corridor, and they could still hear his yells echoing down the stairwell.

" _Meat_! There's so much  _meat_!"

* * *

"Has anyone seen my toilet paper? I'm missing the two baskets that I left out in the rec room."

Luffy tore through the ship in a frantic frenzy, looking everywhere for those two baskets like they were the One Piece itself. Usopp frowned as he peered under his plate of food and snatched it from the captain's hands before he decided to claim his grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich as well.

"Why do you need so much toilet paper again? You're not allowed to paper the docks anymore, Luffy."

"I'm going to build a fort for Monkey. Sanji, have you seen them? I really, really need to find it."

The cook had a thoughtful look on his face as he stirred the stew he was preparing for the apology lunch he had planned for leaving everyone with a cold breakfast. They still had no idea why he had spent so long in the stores doing inventory, but the only thing he would say was that he had been making some budget cuts on the spending logs ("You know, a little nip here and a tuck there.")

"Sanji?"

He set the food to simmer and turned around once he had everyone's attention. "I took a huge dump this morning. The note I left was just a cover for why I was gone for so long. There wasn't enough paper in the bathroom for what I needed, kind of like taco night on the Merry that one time, so I grabbed the two baskets and used them all, because of the huge-ass dump I took."

Everyone stared at him in wide-eyed shock and bewilderment. Sanji smiled serenely back at them. "It's high-quality, by the way; completely waterproof and resistant to at least 8 Gs without tearing."

"Holy  _shit_." Franky croaked, suddenly unable to look down at his own food. "You're a monster."

"That's what she said."

They would get their appetites back by dinnertime. Probably.

(He would explain everything to them later, once they stopped trying to avoid him like he was carrying a virus. And once Chopper stopped trying to pull him aside in the infirmary to discuss his dietary habits. Quite tearfully, at that.)

* * *

Usopp frowned at the rolled white cloth in his hands.

"So…it's a sail?"

"Mm-hm."

"And you made this with our toilet paper?"

"It's not actually toilet paper, but yes."

"And it actually held out in this weather?"

Sanji took a drag from his cigarette and nodded. "Like I said, high quality stuff. Whatever vendor we got this from probably messed up the cut and tried to salvage their loss by selling it as toilet paper."

Snatching the fabric from their sniper's hands, Luffy wrapped it around his shoulders and sighed softly. "It's so soft and comfy…I wanna put this on the Mini Merry."

"Mini Merry doesn't use sails, Luffy."

"I don't care, Franky; make it have sails so I can put this up."

Zoro peered into the room with the shipwright; they were both saddled with even more supplies and tools for the project on the Black Siet and were dragging up one of Franky's heavy blades from the ship's hold. The swordsman narrowed his eyes at the huge white cloth draped over Luffy.

"What the heck do you call that thing?"

Sanji smiled proudly around his cigarette. "Toilet paper sail."

* * *

Zoro slipped into the kitchen where the cook was preparing yet another snack for the two crews as they worked together on their escape plan, and frankly, the swordsman thought that only Luffy would still have an appetite by the time dinner rolled around. Still, he leaned over and snatched up one of the little tarts, earning himself a swift kick to the shin and a muttered curse, but Sanji let him keep it anyway.

He was unusually subdued when Zoro took the knife from his hands.

"So, I guess this is it, huh?"

"You're acting like I'm about to run you through with this thing."

"…could we do that, instead?"

Zoro crossed his arms and frowned. "You're the one who wanted to 'do the word thing', Curlicue."

He sighed and rubbed his arm nervously, casting about the kitchen for a distraction. "Oh, so I actually said that?"

"Don't tell me you're chickening out?"

Sanji bristled immediately and shoved the food aside, placing both hands palm-down on the cleared surface as he leaned forward across the counter. "Hell no. Let's get this over with. I wanna get back to kicking your ugly mug all over the Sunny's deck again."

"Now we're talking," Zoro smirked, tapping impatiently at Wado's hilt. "And to be clear,  _I'll_  be the one wiping the floor with your face, Curlybrow."

"You wish, Cactus Head."

He pulled a new bottle of sake out of his freshly restocked cabinet and set it in front of the swordsman with a smile. "Here, I picked this up in the Inner Cities. Thought you might like it."

The way Zoro's eyes lit up made him glad that he had chosen to bring it back from that restaurant in Heathers last night. Popping the cap off, Zoro tried out a little and nodded his approval before taking a long drag from the bottle. "So, what's the deal with the cold shoulder a couple of nights ago, and that stupid poisoning shit yesterday morning?"

The cook poured out a glass of wine for himself and sat down in one of the chairs at the table directly across from Zoro's barstool. "Oi, what about the things you said to me, Marimo? You weren't exactly innocent in all of this."

"You want me to apologize for trying to get a rise out of you?" He cocked an eyebrow and laughed. "That's part of our routine, shit-cook."

Sanji peered down into his wine; suddenly he wasn't feeling so sure of himself. Had it all been in his head? "It felt different."

"So I was mad at you. And? You were the one who started everything with the way you kept dodging me and throwing vitriol whenever we talked."

Zoro stared straight into his eyes with an insistent look. "Just tell me."

Sanji took a deep breath and steeled himself, trying to hold on to the memories of holding that little silverfish on the ferry and the feeling of his friends' support and love fluttering in his chest. He could do this. "Zoro…uh, about what happened on Thriller Bark-"

It was like someone had flicked a switch on him, and Sanji suspected that he had just done it himself. Zoro's expression closed off, and his eyes were narrowed and hard. "Nothing happened on Thriller Bark."

"Look, I know we haven't said anything to the others, but I thought that between the two of us, we could-"

"Nothing. Happened."

Sanji bit his lip; this wasn't going the way he had hoped. "You said we would talk."

"It doesn't matter. I changed my mind." Zoro stood up and capped the flask before setting it back on the table, leaving Sanji staring up at him with a hurt expression. "Thanks for the sake."

"You promised, Zoro!"

Zoro froze. Sanji heard him inhale deeply, and then he turned around with a thunderous expression. "Why does this matter so much to you?"

"It matters because you've hurt my feelings," Sanji snapped, rising to his feet to glare at him. It felt stupid and childish to say it out loud, but there it was. He wasn't going to back off now, not while he had Zoro's attention. "And all your inappropriate shit certainly didn't help things either."

"You wanna talk about inappropriate shit?" Zoro growled, pushing his stool aside and taking a step towards the kitchen table. "Okay, let's talk about the stunt you pulled on the harbor that first day. You know, when you hid behind your brand new shit-cook groupies after I came to you to apologize?"

He had tried to apologize? Sanji furrowed his brow, trying to remember what had happened on the docks after he stormed out on the swordsman. He had been fighting off an annoying sense of dizziness during his argument with Zoro, and the last thing he recalled doing was shoving past a group of pirates on the pier before collapsing at the edge of the water. His vision went black immediately afterwards, and he certainly didn't say a word to those men. Had that group been the cooks from the other ships?

"What are you talking about?" The implications of what little he remembered of the evening combined with what Zoro had just told him had started to become clear, but he had to know what they told Zoro. What had they  _said_?

Zoro barreled on, completely oblivious to his panicked turmoil as he tried to figure out what the cooks had done. "Do you know how much it hurt when you brought complete strangers into our personal conflict? I was so humiliated; I felt fucking  _betrayed_. I thought we were  _nakama_."

"I have no idea what the hell you're saying, idiot." Sanji backed into his seat as Zoro stalked towards him. "Do you think I actually used them as a ploy for your attention?"

Zoro closed the distance between them, grabbing him by the arms and shaking him viciously. His face was twisted into a snarl, and for the first time a strange, ugly thought occurred to Sanji: the thought that Zoro might actually want to kill him.

"There, you have it! You have my fucking attention, shithead! That was what it was all about, right?"

Sanji's shoulder screamed in protest at the harsh treatment, and he struggled to get free from Zoro's grasp. "Idiot, stop that."

"Go on, say the fucking words. I'm finally listening; isn't this what you wanted?"

His nails dug into Sanji's arms, and that really, really scared him. There was no snarky banter, no flash and slash of blades, nor the freeing feel of a perfectly executed attack. There was just the two of them struggling in the kitchen, locked in a painful grip, and the words just wouldn't come out. "G-get off me, you bastard."  _You're hurting me. You're_ hurting _me_.

"Speak  _up_ , bastard. I thought you wanted to be heard."

Sanji couldn't.

With a roar, Zoro slammed him against the wall, and stars exploded front of his eyes. He felt the ground rush up to meet his knees (or was that his knees hitting the floorboards?) and then his hands were covered in blood and Zoro was backing away in horror.

"Sh-shit."

Sanji cradled his head in his trembling hands, and he felt a numbing calmness fall over him even as he heard Zoro's panicked stammering ("Fuck, Sanji. I didn't mean it. I didn't  _mean_  it.") from somewhere above him.

"I carried you back."

The swordsman stopped, and there was another footstep. Was he moving forward or back? Sanji wanted to ask him whether he was scared of what he had just done or if he was worried that Sanji would start saying all the things that he didn't want to hear. The only things that came out of his mouth, however, were all of the words he had been too scared to say earlier; everything that had caught in his throat seemed to have been jarred free in the blow he had just been dealt.

"After you told me that 'nothing' had happened, I carried you back," he said softly, knowing that Zoro was already leaving, and the words came faster in his desperation. "Do you know what that was like? There was blood everywhere, so much of it, and I was so scared. I...when I finally found Chopper, you had already stopped breathing."

The door swung open, and Sanji tried to raise his voice one last time. "You were dead-"

He clapped his hands over his mouth, and blood dripped down over his fingers; the weight of that horrible realization, and just what it meant to him, came crashing over him again, and it was all he could do to keep from screaming. His voice was a hoarse whisper, like even his body wouldn't allow him to share this burden with anyone. "You died in my arms, Zoro."

Zoro was already gone.

* * *

The Lathos pirates joined them for dinner that evening, and they announced that everything was set for tomorrow's plan. The two ships would set out at dawn under the cover of a rolling wall of fog that Nami would draw into the harbor with her Clima-Tact. Franky had assured them that the Coup de Burst should get them past the underwater reef without tearing the Black Siet apart, and then it was up to the entire crew to steer both ships through the current and around to Staithe's north end.

The atmosphere was warm and friendly despite the lingering fear over what-ifs and the countless ways this could all blow up in their faces, but Luffy told them all that if they were all to die tomorrow, then he at least wanted to eat all the meat they could throw at him.

"Just relax and eat; you can't do anything by worrying over it. We've done all we can for tonight."

Thaddeus and his men took the words to heart and regaled them all with tales of their earlier sea-faring days, and the mood was a lot lighter by the time dessert rolled around. Brook gave them his own attempt at a comedy show in which he ended up singing most of his jokes; it was an interesting effect, to say the least.

Luffy called him away when everything had quieted and most of the crew was either stumbling off to bed or already passed out at the table.

Zoro looked out across the stormy ocean and joined his captain at the Sunny's stern, wondering what this was about. Luffy leaned against the railing and stared down into the inky waters, and for a long time neither of them said anything. When the wind suddenly picked up his hat and threatened to make off with it, Zoro snatched it from midair and shoved it back down on his head.

Luffy placed his hand over Zoro's and held it there, to his bewilderment. "Luffy?"

"I can always count on you for anything, can't I?"

"Obviously." Zoro didn't remove his hand, and he noticed the smile on Luffy's face before the boy stepped away from him and let his hand go.

"You're my first mate, and that's why I let you handle a lot of stuff on your own for me. I know something happened on Thriller Bark, but you took care of it for me, so that doesn't matter. Those burdens are in the past."

He pulled himself onto the railing between the swordsman and the edge of the ship, moving so that they were mere inches from each other. Zoro could have traced out the line of the scar under his eye, even in the dark. "But I think you've left Sanji a burden in the process, and that's not fair to him."

Zoro remembered his earlier conversation with the cook and scowled, pulling away from the captain. "Whatever's bothering him, I'm sure he can handle it. He's an adult."

Luffy's hand wrapped around his wrist and anchored him there. "When I first met him, and I mean  _really_  met him, do you know what he said to me?"

When Zoro didn't answer, he continued. "He spent ten years trying to repay a debt to a man who saved him because he  _loved_  him. Ten years carrying a burden that he made up in his own mind. What do you think he's going to do with the one you've given him?"

"What do you want me to do? I don't know how to talk to him."

Luffy gave him an incredulous look. "You talk with your mouth, Zoro. If I have to teach you that…"

"Shut up, captain."

Luffy snorted and leaned against him as he tried to contain his laughter. Zoro grinned and let him throw an arm around his shoulders, but as he looked down at the captain's thin frame, he remembered the ball of pain and Kuma's paw as it held his limp, lifeless body in its grasp.

"What about your burden? Do you expect me to watch you carry that by yourself?"

Luffy's face looked otherworldly in the light of the electricity-laced clouds overhead, and his eyes held a fey, laughing glow. "Just ask if you want to, and I'll share it too."

* * *

There was a good probability that he had a slight concussion, and combined with the contusion on his shoulder and his torn side, Sanji probably should have been laid up in the infirmary, or at least not out here in the middle of the storm. But he had been raised out on the sea, and if there was one thing that he had held onto throughout his life it was that there was nothing a little saltwater couldn't heal. Besides, it was the one place he was certain that he could avoid absolutely everyone in the world right now.

Cool, dark blue surrounded him as he pressed his back against the harbor floor, watching the rise and fall of the ships on the stormy surface. The water was murky with the agitation of the waves against the sand and dirt, but it was peaceful and quiet down here; the storm could rage on forever up there, and he wouldn't care one bit.

He would have to come up for air eventually.

He would return to the surface, where a world of problems and fuck-ups waited for him with open arms. Sanji narrowed his eyes. Why was it that most of his problems were caused by stupid, huge meathead Neanderthal types who just didn't know when to leave him alone? Between Zoro, that Khalashtrogos, and Duval, he'd had one shitty, awful week, and all he wanted was to get as far away as possible from all of them.

It wasn't entirely true, if he was being honest with himself. He'd had a part in what had happened, and if he wasn't such a coward then maybe he could have talked things over with Zoro, and maybe there was nothing he could do about Duval and Khalashtrogos (though he was grateful for the information on Endwolle that Duval had given him), but at least he could have fixed things with his own  _nakama_.

The Thriller Bark conversation had not been the best idea, in retrospect, and he started to realize that maybe he should have considered Zoro's side of the matter.  _I'm not the only one who suffered…I've probably suffered the least._

He had been acting so selfishly all this time, and what he should have thought about was about the swordsman's best interests. He almost died protecting them all and here he was trying to make him relive the whole experience just to satisfy his own wants.

_I…don't want him to suffer anymore._

If Zoro let him, he would apologize for everything and drop the whole matter, he decided as he broke the surface of the water, taking a huge gulp of air. The cold, howling wind stung at the gash on his head, but his head felt clear and the pain in his shoulder had faded as well. Duval's medicine had worked wonders on his wound that he even forgot that he had ever gotten injured there. By the morning, he knew that he would be as good as new.

If Zoro let him, Sanji was going to be just fine.

* * *

The lights were out when Zoro entered the men's quarters, and Usopp groaned when he let the hallway light in through the open door.

"God, Zoro," he moaned, pulling the sheets over his head. "Go to bed already."

"Shut up, Usopp; you'll wake up the entire ship with your bawling."

He slipped his shoes off and crept barefoot across the cold floor, reaching the end of the row of beds where the cook was already lying silently, his back turned towards the others. Zoro knelt down next to his bed and frowned, clenching his hands against his thighs as he tried to figure out how to go about this. Finally, he raised a tentative hand and pressed down on the very edge of the bed.

Sanji's eyes opened a crack, and he looked at Zoro wearily over his shoulder. "Mm? Mosshead?"

"I'm sorry I tried to split your head open earlier."

"You weren't trying to do that. Just happened somehow."

Despite his apprehension and nervousness, he laughed, and the sniper hissed out a curse. Sanji quirked a smile at him and whispered, "Sorry for ignoring you all week, and for the shit I said."

"I said some shit too. Sorry about that."

A quiet chuckle, and then the blankets rustled as the cook rolled over to face him.

"Could we…try again tomorrow?"

Zoro nodded. "Yeah. We can."

"Good…apology accepted."

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

He heard Sanji yawn and slowly curl up in his bed, tucking the sheets in around himself, and his breathing soon evened out. "Stupid…marimo…"

Zoro climbed into his own bed and closed his eyes, letting his nakama's breathing lull him to sleep. He resolved to try again in the morning, to try with an open mind, no matter how it hurt to think of the island ship and what had happened there, because his crewmate needed him to. He did this with the hopeful, naïve thought that everything would be fixed tomorrow, because who could have seen what the morning would bring, and when would anyone have believed that things could have gone so wrong, and how could he have ever known that the cook would never leave Staithe Wharf with them? He slept peacefully and none of those thoughts ever crossed his mind that evening.

The next morning, Sanji was the only one who didn't wake up.


	7. Outbreak and breakout

Brook would have rubbed the sleep from his eyes, but of course, he had none (ohoho, skull joke!); his body still felt the aches and general stiffness that came after a night of sleep spent in an awkward position. He didn't even have a neuromuscular system anymore. It was strange how Devil Fruits worked, like Luffy's impossibly elastic frame, or how Chopper and Robin could either reshape their own structure at will or completely build a new body out of nothing but the particles in the air. The fruits' abilities bordered on near miracles, and sometimes it was difficult to make sense of them. _Sometimes, it doesn't seem like they even follow basic rules or fundamentals._

He relished in a few extra moments in bed, seeing as the musician would not be needed yet out on the decks until they prepared to set sail, so he listened to Usopp calibrate his slingshot's Dial in the sitting area and chuckled when the shipwright dragged himself miserably from the bed, moaning about the early morning hour.

"After this is over, I'm sleeping until noon."

Brook smiled and replied somewhere from under his blankets. "As long as you get us through this current first, Mr. Shipwright."

"Keh,  _fine_."

The cook wasn't up yet, which was the strangest thing he had ever seen because in the few weeks that he had known this crew, Sanji was up way before anyone else; he was rarely seen anywhere but in the galley or up on deck serving the ladies and helping with the ship's steering. Today, he was still tucked in under a pile of blankets, and by the mismatched look of them Brook guessed that he had gone to retrieve some from the linen closet at least once last night. Hearing his captain's call for breakfast from the hallway, Brook decided to go rouse the cook and give him a few minutes to prepare himself for Luffy's relentless demands for food.

"Sanji," he called softly, placing his hand on the edge of the bottom bunk as he leaned over. "I believe you've overslept,  _just_  a tad. There's still plenty of time to make breakfast, of course."

The blond head was still against the white pillows and various colored sheets.

"Sanji, it's time to wake up. The captain seems to be getting desperate."

He didn't even stir.

"Sanji?"

Concerned that he was in a much deeper sleep than he had expected, the musician reached over to shake his shoulder gently. His hand stopped right over Sanji's blankets; the heat coming off of him was incredible. Frowning, Brook moved around to the other side of the bed, and he would have paled had he any skin left. The cook wasn't even moving, and for a brief moment he would have suspected that he wasn't breathing either if not for the fact that every once in a while, the mound of blankets rose and fell slightly. His skin was paper white, and even his lips were pale and colorless.

He remembered the grey, weary faces of his late nakama during their last days, and then Brook straightened up with a panicked cry. "D-doctor! We need a doctor in here!"

Usopp glanced up sharply just as Luffy poked his head into the room. "Eh, what's wrong, Brook? Why's Sanji still in bed and not making me breakfast?"

The sniper watched Luffy bound over to Brook's side at Sanji's bed. His eyes held a look of disbelief; he hadn't even realized that Sanji was still there. "Oi, what's going on?"

"I…I don't know." The musician had backed into the next bed and was seated at the edge of it, a stricken, fearful look on his bleached skeletal features. "But I think we need Chopper,  _now_."

Usopp took one look at Sanji's face and made for the doorway to search for the doctor, calling out over his shoulder, "Get him on his back and propped up on some pillows; the blankets are obstructing his breathing, so remove what you can and try to help him cool down somehow. I'll find Chopper."

His own trembling couldn't,  _wouldn't_  stop, no matter how he promised himself that this wasn't like last time (he  _wasn't_  going to be left alone again), and he felt Luffy drape a blanket over his shoulders before turning his attention to Sanji's care.

("Don't worry; I have to take care of Sanji first, but then I'll protect you, Brook.")

Somewhere between Luffy's promise and the scream, the musician found himself nodding numbly, unable to remove his gaze from Sanji's unnatural complexion and his eerie stillness. Even with the demons of his past clawing at the inside of his mind, he trusted Luffy, because the captain had never let him down once. He was not going to abandon him either.

When Luffy grabbed Sanji to turn him over, there was a sudden change in the energy in the air, and then the captain  _howled_ , recoiling and letting go of the cook's shoulders as he stumbled away from the bed. Brook had never heard such an awful scream before, not from their captain, and he leapt up from the bed to catch him before he collapsed.

_"Luffy!"_

His cry of pain had caught the attention of the rest of the crew, and Zoro burst in looking like someone had just shaken his world, eyes wide and desperate as he quickly scanned the room for the captain. Luffy was in Brook's arms, trembling violently as he hugged his arms to himself; he was doubled over and barely on his feet, even with the musician supporting most of his weight.

Usopp ran in with Chopper just then, and the sniper quickly moved to Sanji's side. "What's going on? Has he woken up yet, guys?"

_"Don't. Touch. Him."_

They had never heard so much pain in his voice, and when he looked up, there was a strained, pale expression on his usually bright and cheerful face.

Zoro grabbed his shoulders weakly. "Luffy, look at me. What happened?"

"It's…I was turning him over," Luffy managed between hissing pants, still hiding his hands from them. "And I...his skin…m-my  _hands_ -"

Without waiting for further explanation, Zoro wrenched his arms out, and Luffy gave a pained cry. His palms were covered in angry blistering scars, raw and dark red on the soft flesh. He couldn't seem to keep his hands from trembling, even with Zoro's firm grip on his wrists. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You got this just from touching him?"

"U-uh-huh. What's wrong with him, Chopper? Can you fix him?"

Chopper looked at the wounds critically, glancing between Luffy's hands and the bedridden cook. "…Zoro, I need you to help him wash them out; we need to apply something on his hands for the pain."

"What the hell is that?" Usopp frowned in the direction of the infirmary, where Zoro had dragged their captain to wash up in the emergency bath. "How did Sanji give him that just through skin contact?"

Brook shook his head. "No, I saw Luffy grab his shoulder with his right hand; the other only came into contact with the sheets. But he has burns on  _both_  of his hands."

"Sanji, can you hear me?" Chopper had approached the bed, edging as close as he dared without touching anything in direct contact with the cook. He cautiously drew out a thermometer from his medical bag, "I'm going to take a reading of your temperature right now; if you understand what I'm saying, just nod your head."

A feeble whimper came from underneath the sheets, and Chopper took a deep breath and nodded. "I know it hurts, but I need you to work with me. Can you open up for me?"

There was no verbal response, but he did cooperate long enough for Chopper to get a good reading. He was not liking what the signs pointed to.

"Why has he died?" Chopper's eyes widened in surprise; he hadn't expected such a coherent response from someone with a temperature this high.

"No one has died, Sanji," he said gently, wishing that he could just throw his arms around the cook and hug him tightly, all professionalism be damned, but even now he couldn't risk exposing himself to whatever this infection was. "Everyone is fine, and you're going to be fine, too. We'll cure you, I promise."

But Sanji was already unconscious again.

* * *

Brook watched Chopper examine the swabs he had taken from the wounds on Luffy's hands and compare them to the samples he retrieved from the cook. The doctor was muttering under his breath as he worked, referring to a huge pile of medical books that he had pulled from his shelves for this.

The captain lay on the medical room bed in an uncharacteristic silence; he stared blankly at his hands and tried clenching them occasionally, to which the navigator responded with a half-hearted chiding and a weary sigh. Nami rubbed his knee soothingly and kept her gaze averted from the angry wounds, looking like she hated sitting there helplessly while her friends were suffering.

"It's going to be alright, Nami." She looked up at the musician and smiled weakly, squeezing Luffy's knee in reflex. The captain didn't even move at her touch.

"I-I know, Brook. It's just nerve-wracking. Why did this have to happen now, when we were about to leave?"

"The others can take care of things on deck; they may not have the best navigator in the world, but Issok is also a fine helmsman. They'll be okay without us for a while."

A hushed string of curses erupted from the opposite end of the room, and they glanced at the doctor in surprise. Luffy's eyes flickered over briefly before settling back on the empty space between his hands where they lay on the bed.

"Chopper?"

"..sorry, sorry. This thing is just confounding the wits out of me." He peered into the microscope and fiddled with the fine focus nervously. "We're running on limited time, and neither of their conditions are improving. Why this doesn't work like any virus or bacteria I've ever seen is beyond me."

"We've been a bad influence on you, haven't we?" Nami chuckled, and he blushed as pink as his hat. "But you're going to figure this out, Chopper. You're the best doctor we could ask for, after all."

"Complimenting me doesn't make me happy, idiot!" He was just able to swivel the chair away from his worktable in time to avoid knocking anything over with his flailing arms and pleased dance. "Now let me work in peace; I said you could keep Luffy company as long as you didn't interrupt my research!"

"Ah! Sorry, doctor!"

"Cut it out, stupidheads!"

Brook was about to reply yet again when Nami jumped up and covered his mouth, and Chopper gave her a pleased nod before turning back to his notes. The others would occasionally pass through quietly, asking on Luffy's condition and whether they knew if the doctor was making any progress.

"Not yet," Nami muttered in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder at Chopper's hunched form. "Luffy's horribly quiet that it's scary, but the narcotics he was given earlier seem to be helping with the pain. How's Sanji?"

"He looks like death warmed over." Franky folded his arms over his chest and frowned. "Are you sure we can't touch him? He's burning up and drowning in his own sweat; I'm starting to think that he's going to dehydrate completely before the fever kills him."

"He's  _not_  going to die." Nami's brown eyes flashed dangerously. "And don't you even think about touching anything  _near_  him. The last thing we need is for you to lose your hands,  _shipwright_."

"Tch, I never said I would. It's just worrisome, that's all. Can't even give him water; all we've been doing is taking turns sitting in the lounge area, staring at him lying there like a corpse."

Nami bit her lip and looked away, blinking rapidly. "Forget that; how's the plan coming along?"

"Besides the fact that we have two seriously ill crew members, not to mention that one of them is the goddamned  _captain_ , we're peachy. Could set out right now, under better circumstances." Franky ran his fingers through his hair and cursed lowly. "Shit, we have some luck for this to happen right now."

"Chopper doesn't want to make the call to remain in port just yet, but considering how bad Luffy's wounds are-"

"We're setting sail."

Brook blinked apologetically at the pair, the captain freed from his grasp and standing on his feet unsteadily. Luffy's eyes were determined and angry, even if he looked like he was ready to topple over.

Chopper turned around with a grim, terrible look in his eyes. "Luffy…"

"I don't care if you have to burn us both in order to destroy this thing and save yourselves, but none of us is going to stay in this port another minute longer. We set sail now."

"Captain, as your doctor I am going to have to insist that you lie down this  _instant_!"

"Franky, call Thaddeus and tell him to head out now. We'll follow once I can get myself onto the main deck."

It took all four of them to strap the captain down to the bed, and even then he was still struggling through his drug-induced haze. They panted heavily and waited as Luffy's cries slowly faded, ignoring the hurt, betrayed glares that he shot at them. Nami rubbed her jaw tenderly; that was definitely going to bruise.

"He still has some fight in him," Franky chuckled weakly, swiping the blood away from a cut above his eye. "That's always a good thing."

"Oh, I don't like the look of this."

"Um. Sorry, Chopper?"

The doctor leaned over his specimens and waved them away, focusing on something that only he seemed to be able to distinguish in the lens of the viewer. He furrowed his brow and muttered under his breath about lymphocytes and the mutated progression of the invading substance in the samples, and about looking into some of the oncological books he had before trying to pinpoint his diagnosis. Then he stiffened somewhere between the word antibody resistant and vaccine, his eyes widened like he had just had a crucial realization. "I want everyone out of the men's quarters.  _Now_."

He didn't wait to see if they followed his orders; he  _expected_  them to, and the crew looked on down the hall after him worriedly. Chopper had an intense, piercing look in his eyes, and they had never seen him look so serious and grim. What could have set him off like this?

* * *

The remainder of the Booster Shot Four sprinted down the boardwalks of Staithe Wharf with Zoro and Thaddeus, following the warpath their doctor had left behind on the docks. He had yet to attack anyone but had left many of the pirates out there terrified and whimpering about a monster (the 'Forest Giant', they called him). Zoro shot a warning glare at the bolder men who tried to stop them and led his group up the hill towards the dockmaster's offices, hoping that he hadn't already done anything drastic.

_Shit, what in the world set him off like this?_

They arrived just as Chopper had knocked down the second set of double doors separating the medical bay from the regular office area. " _Dockmaster_!"

The man turned away from the door he was unlocking only to freeze up at the sight of the Devil Fruit User's form. He dropped all of his folders, letting the papers spill freely all over the floor.

"Oh…my…God…"

Chopper seethed, and in his Heavy Point he looked already dangerously on the verge of a breakdown. "Where are your doctors? Tell them to get out here."

Zoro stepped between them, a hand resting tentatively on his swords. "Chopper! What the hell is going on?"

He fixed a glare at the swordsman. "Don't interrupt; I'm just doing my job."

"By threatening innocent people?" Nami cried, clutching her Clima-Tact to her chest protectively. Behind her Franky and Usopp prepared for battle hesitantly; no one wanted to be the one to attack their own crewmate. "Chopper, please calm down and tell us what's going on first!"

"Why don't you ask them? Th-they're the reason that we're even here in the first place...what's taking them so long? Dockmaster, I-I already asked you for the doctors. Who's the one who had Sanji three days ago? Where are they? Wh-where-?" 

He looked like he was about to launch an attack on the entire building, and Zoro doubted that he would be able to stop him alone in this condition, but then a young woman burst out from the group of doctors huddled behind the door that the Dockmaster was standing at.

"Wait!" She cried as she stepped in front of Zoro, arms spread protectively like she was actually planning to take the blow for him. If anything, he had to admire her courage and selflessness, even for a pirate like him. "Please, wait! What do you mean the procedure was botched?"

Chopper paused and fixed his glassy, distant stare on the doctor, and she trembled but stayed her ground.  _"_ Do you know what I found in one of the samples I took from my cook? One of my crewmates who took your vaccine?"

Nami's heart seemed to stop when he spoke the next words, and she could have given every beli she had ever owned just so he would take it back.

_"The virus was active."_

The young doctor clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide with horror, and somewhere behind her the Dockmaster fell to the ground in a dead faint. Everyone in the medical wing had gone deathly pale and silent, and Usopp actually dropped his slingshot with a resonating clatter.

To their surprise, Chopper wavered. Tears trickled down into his thick fur, and he bit his lip to hold back his sobs, to no avail. " _Do you...do you know what it feels like…to know that you can't even touch your own patient…y-your_  own friend…that you can't even h-help them and some doctor you turned out to be, a-anyway, 'cause y-you can't handle a stupid trace of seastone that some idiots injected into his b-body!"

The doctor wrapped her arms around his shaking frame, and he visibly shrank before their eyes as she held him, until he was back in Brain Point, a huddled, trembling little ball of fur wailing in her embrace as they approached. Zoro knelt down beside her and held his hands out for their doctor, a weary frown on his face.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he began awkwardly, because Nami was still stricken, and Usopp was being held up by Franky's strength alone, even though the shipwright actually looked a little green around the gills, and Thaddeus watched them all in stoic silence. The task of salvaging the situation had been left to him, he supposed, cradling a sobbing Chopper to his chest while the young woman before them just shook her head tearfully.

It was the sudden noise at the main entrance that caught their attention, and they glanced over at the source of the strange, shuffling sound; it was like something was being dragged across the rubble.

Sanji stood in the doorway, illuminated by the breaking dawn on the horizon.

"Are you leaving me, then?"

Without warning, he promptly passed out.

* * *

Usopp stared through the glass barrier separating them from the unconscious cook, and he realized that he had been pressing his nose against it when his breath fogged up the glass. He wiped away the fog and turned back towards the others seated in the medical bay office, where Frank and Zoro were arguing for Sanji's immediate release.

"You can't put him in a goddamn cell; are you completely out of your minds?" Franky was livid, pacing back and forth in front of the barrier. "That is a dying man in there! He needs medical attention, not a prison stay. What kind of doctors are you? Am I the only one who finds this totally insane? Nami, say something!"

The navigator looked up at him with a numb, tired expression, holding a catatonic Chopper in her arms. The doctor wouldn't respond to any of their questions or nudges, though he would occasionally give a hiccoughing sob that let them know that he was still alive.

Zoro growled; how had this day ended up taking such a drastic turn for the worse? "Look, I don't care if you guys can't help us; at least give us our cook back. We'll leave quietly and just forget this whole thing even happened."

The dockmaster had woken up and was seated behind one of the desks, though he looked a little pale. He shared a glance with the port doctors and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Koshiro, Miss Sami-swan. But you should just cut your losses and consider him dead. Burn his bedding, clothes, all belongings, and leave the wharf peaceably."

"You should consider yourself dead if you can't tell me how to fix him."

Chopper's red-eyed glare was enough to frighten the man, and he ducked down behind the young doctor from earlier. Usopp couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth; Chopper could be fiercely protective of his friends, and he actually made cute look terrifying (if he had a toddler-sized plush toy lookalike tell him with a dead-serious expression that he was actually going to murder him, he would be looking for a hiding place, too).

The doctor sighed and rubbed her arm uncomfortably. "Please understand. No one has seen the virus in its full form for two whole centuries; there is no available documentation for treating it outside of the prevention shots."

"Then make some documentation."

"I wish I could, but no one even knows how that form ended up in your friend's dose. It's not even supposed to exist anymore!"

Franky snorted. "Well, you kinda have living proof over there that it, in fact,  _does_. How do you end up injecting someone with the wrong syringe?"

She buried her face in her hands and cried, " _I don't know, okay_? What can I say to make you understand?"

"Franky, back off," Zoro growled, shoving the shipwright back into his seat. "These people don't know. This wasn't done from out here."

"I think it would be in everyone's best interests if you would kindly take your leave." The dockmaster looked nervously out the back window and shuddered. "Now."

Nami frowned and followed the line of his gaze suspiciously. "Why have you been so insistent on getting us to leave all of a sudden? This port has always been really lenient with all procedures and customs, and now you want to kick us out because someone at HQ messes up an inoculation on us?"

"Please..."

Thaddeus saw the flare first as it shot up into the sky from the Sunny's position. He grabbed Zoro's shoulder and muttered, "Change of plans, we have to leave immediately."

"Now?" The swordsman glared when the second shot went up and pulled Nami to her feet. "Alright, we have to get out  _now_ ; Franky, grab Sanji and run. I'll cover for you guys-"

"How many times do I have to tell you? He has no hope left. You'll only be dragging along an infected corpse before long, and then what will your crew do once you have an outbreak at sea?"

Zoro smirked and patted Chopper's head affectionately. "You must not have met our resident doctor, old man. Tony Tony Chopper is the one who is going to cure every disease in the world; this little headcold has nothing on him."

Chopper gave a genuine, bashful smile and slapped his hand away. "Flattery will get you everywhere, lawnhead!"

"You've been taking lessons from the shit-cook, huh?"

"I hate to interrupt your camaderie, gentlemen, but we really need to go if we want to make it out with the ships." Thaddeus led Usopp and Nami to the door, which in retrospect Zoro would always be eternally grateful for as they were well out of the way of the explosion that tore through half of the building in that same instant.

The next thing he knew, his world was engulfed in flames.

* * *

Sanji shivered on the cold concrete floor of the cell, wondering what had happened to his warm, comfortable bed back on the Sunny. He then realized that he had left the ship at some point, but he honestly couldn't remember where he had gone or how he had even made it there. His legs felt like Nami's favorite tangerine preserves, the one with the little lumps in it.  _That_  was the feeling. It was familiar, but completely uncomfortable when he tried to stand up on them.

_I wonder how my legs would taste right now?_

Zeff would probably know. He really should ask him the next time he swung by the Baratie. They could compare recipes and techniques; he had learned a lot since he set out on the Merry and the shit geezer was sure to be pleased (not that he would ever admit it, but Sanji knew how to tell when he was impressed). And maybe he would even tell him about the All Blue, if he was in a charitable mood towards the old man.

Old man…there was an old man he remembered, and then he had ended up in here. Was he the reason that Sanji was in this cell?

Sanji hauled himself up, barely able to bring himself to a kneeling position on the ground. His palms scraped along the rubble, but the pain was nothing compared to the unbearable fever that wracked his mind and body. There was a ringing in his ears, and then he noticed the cool ocean breeze coming in from the north. At least, he assumed it was north. No other winds were as bitter nor as painful.

The rubble used to be a part of that wall over there, and what had happened to the door? He lifted his head at the sound of approaching footsteps and his vision blurred horribly. The next few moments he remembered in sensations, a flash of gold and green, the gentle clink of gold earrings and the hilt of a sword connecting with his left hand.

"Zoro...?"

His shoulder was as strong and solid as he remembered, and he let himself sink into the broad, warm embrace, wondering why he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was dreaming.

* * *

Nami found herself staring in horror out at the harbor, through the gaping hole that used to be the medical bay's main office in the building. She pushed past Usopp and Thaddeus and began to dig through the rubble, eyes searching frantically for any sign of her friends.

Somewhere nearby, she could hear Usopp speaking with someone, about biles and the forest but her focus was entirely on finding their nakama. "Chopper, Zoro, Franky…please answer me!"

"N-Nami…?"

Chopper's Heavy Point emerged from the wreckage with Zoro tucked under his arm. Zoro looked battered and bruised and there was blood spilling down his cheek from a bad head wound, but he was  _alive_. The doctor's fur was missing in a lot of places, and there were the telltale signs of first and second-degree burns all over his body. He still smiled beautifully at the navigator and gave her a thumbs up. "He's going to be okay, Nami! I shielded him from the blast, so the damage is mostly superficial."

With tears welling up in her eyes, Nami grinned back and threw her arms around him. "Thank goodness you're alright, Chopper," she murmured into his fur. "I was so scared."

On the other side of the remains of the building, Thaddeus was helping a soot-covered Franky to his feet. " _Fuck_ , what the hell was that?"

"Someone set off a projectile on the port; they think it came from one of the ships on the east docks." Their sniper joined them on the rubble, climbing carefully up to Nami's side and giving her a grim look. "The border guard is coming in right now to handle the situation, so now is the time to retreat to the ships and get the hell out of here."

Thaddeus nodded and looked out at the harbor. "We can still make it while it's chaos out there; the enemy pirates will be too busy with the guard to go after us. Not waiting for us to leave the port was their first mistake."

Usopp glanced at the intact barrier of the cell, already knowing what he would find in there. "There's something else. Sanji's missing."

_"What?"_

"That Khalabunga guy got in here right after the bomb went off, and he broke into the cell and made off with him. They say that he made his intentions clear: he's taking Sanji to the Biles." Pointing out at the dark, heavy forests of StaitheWharf, he told them about the hospital buried somewhere in the outer island, rumored to have years of extensive research on the Staithe Virus. "Supposedly, that's the place to be if you want to survive the virus."

Nami frowned; this was an unexpected turn of events. What reason did Khalashtrogos have for risking contact with the outer island's forbidden woods and Sanji's illness? "Does he know that he's a dead man as soon as he catches the virus?"

"Maybe he wants to repay Sanji for what he did for him that night," Chopper offered weakly, and Nami knew that they had to get the doctor and swordsman back to the ship to be treated as soon as possible. But they couldn't just leave Sanji behind.

Usopp seemed to have the same thought. "Captain Thaddeus, lead the others back to the ship. Whatever happens, everyone…don't look back."

"What are you saying, Usopp?" Nami asked suspiciously; she didn't like the look in the sniper's eyes. It was the crazy, daring look that he got when he resolved to do something incredibly brave and stupid. "You're coming with us, too."

"Sanji once came after me when I was lost; I think it's time I repaid the favor."

"No."

"Nami, I have to do this."

"You can't."

His smile was wide and sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

" _Please_ , Usopp."

He took a deep, steadying breath and stepped away from the crew, nodding at the captain. "You should go now."

" _Usopp_!"

Thaddeus muttered a quick apology and scooped Nami up before she even had time to react. The others followed behind them, with Zoro cradled safely in Chopper's arms as they ran through the tumultuous disorder and chaos on the docks. The border guard was advancing steadily towards the fighting between the pirate crews, and there was smoke rising from the dockmaster's offices, but Nami could only focus on the lone sniper standing in the ruins, covering their retreat with his own special attacks and projectiles. It was enough to get the other pirates' attention, and as they turned on him she heard his yells over the din.

"I am the Great Sogeking, King of Snipers! If any of you cowards wants a fight, I'll be waiting in the Forests of Death for you all with my eight thousand followers! Can you survive to take the thirty million, I repeat,  _thirty million_  on my head? The Sogeking will chew up your ambition and spit it back out in your face, bastards!"

" _Usopp_!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched him disappear into the fray, and the fight spilled down into Staithe's forest. Thaddeus pulled himself up onto the Sunny with Chopper and yelled the signal for his own ship to haul anchor, but Franky held back and looked over his shoulder with a strange expression.

He glanced up at the rest of their crew and smiled affectionately. "I don't think I could get on this ship in good conscience without Curlybrow and Longnose."

Nami glared down at him shakily. "Then I'm coming with you, too."

"They need you here, Nami; there's no wiggly current if you're not there to help guide the ships."

She knew that he was right. Black Siet would make it with Issok, but for the two ships to make it into the Red Line current she had to come with the Sunny.

Nami's tears spilled faster, and she tried to smile at him. If anyone could survive Staithe's forbidden forests, it was her crewmates. "Bring them back safely, Franky."

"Will do, little sis."

He placed his palm against Sunny's hull and nodded up at the navigator. Holding back a sob, Nami pulled the Clima-Tact out and assembled the staff. Drawing the fog in was as easy as a flick of the wrist, and with some well aimed fireballs into the harbor, a great wall of mist rose up and engulfed the entire port, giving both ships the cover that they would need to leave undetected. The ship gave a sudden jolt as Franky shoved it away from the moorings, and as the engines whirred to life, she watched the mists swallowed him up completely.

* * *

The woods were deep and cool and peaceful; they looked like no one had disturbed them in centuries. No paths cut through the thick underbrush, and the only sign of life out there was the quiet chatter of the strange and unusual beasts of the island.

Khalashtrogos looked out over the edge of the cliffs at the harbor below; those fools who had attacked the Straw Hats and their friends were long since captured by now. It wasn't possible to see in this sudden fog that had come over the port, but the border guard had settled the matter swiftly and quickly.

He wondered whether they had survived the attack; it would come as a nasty shock to the Nord if it turned out that his crew had been lost in the battle. The young man had gone quiet after the first ten minutes, his body in shock from the explosion and fever, and now he simply hung over his shoulder limply, breathing so lightly that several times Khalashtrogos had believed him dead and had pulled him down to check.

He should have been dead by now, but he wasn't, and for that, he was determined to keep soldiering on through the woods.

_I'll keep going if you keep going, Nord. I'll keep going._


	8. Storm trails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making the choice to leave their friends behind was only half the battle. Now Nami, Luffy, and the others must deal with the consequences of their decision to abandon the strange port of Staithe Wharf, and new mysteries soon crop up to throw off everything that they believed to be true.

Dark clouds hung low on the skyline, so thick and heavy that the noonday sun had been blotted out almost entirely, and the storm was finally upon the island in a single, pressing roll of thunder and lightning; both the Black Siet and the Thousand Sunny were tossed mercilessly on the furious waves as they lingered on Staithe Wharf's southern end, waiting for the navigator's command. Still, Nami remained motionless at the ship's stern, staring out at the mist-enshrouded island with a shell-shocked look in her eyes. She hadn't stopped crying since they left the port, and Brook was doing all that he could to calm her down, with little success.

Robin felt guilty that she was unable to do more than keep an eye on her while she helped Chopper, but the amount of blood on the swordsman's face and clothes was worrisome. After seeing the condition he had been in on Thriller Bark, the sight was enough to turn her stomach. "There's so much blood…"

"He's going to be fine, Robin," the doctor said in a voice that didn't match his unusually grim face. He must have noticed her discomfort and quickly corrected his expression, putting on a gentle smile for her. "It's just a bad head wound; they always bleed a lot more because of the high number of blood vessels in this area. Applying pressure and some clean dressings should be enough."

He mopped up the blood with a steady and skilled hand, revealing the angry red gash along Zoro's forehead and temple. "We're lucky that he didn't suffer any over-pressurized force on his torso or abdomen; I was really worried about lung injuries and perforations to his internal organs, but luckily he was spared from the worst of the blast."

She took in Zoro's bloodied, unconscious state and Chopper's numerous, painful-looking burns and wondered just how bad it would have been if they had been in the way of the full explosion. They would probably be dead right now, she told herself morbidly, but for once the thought filled her with an ugly coil of fear and helplessness. She steeled herself and helped the doctor finish tending to the first mate, and Zoro was finally starting to look more like himself, though he had yet to wake up. A concussion was probable, but the extent of his trauma was still unclear; Chopper remained hopeful that he would quickly recover from this injury. "It's nothing like Thriller Bark," he said reassuringly, as much for his own sake as hers.

"Of course," she found herself saying softly, preparing to help him move the swordsman to the infirmary, when the man stirred slightly.

"Robin?" he croaked, furrowing his brow in confusion as she started back with a gasp of surprise. "What're you…? Never mind, we have to...get to the Sunny…"

Chopper quickly leaned over and held his shoulders down and looked to Robin for help in restraining him. "It's okay, Zoro. We're back on the ship."

"What? But…the explosion…" His eyes were wide and searching desperately for the rest of his crewmates, even though he could barely move his body under Robin's firm, but gentle grip. "And the cook…is he here too? Where's Sanji?"

"He's fine." Chopper and Robin turned around to find the navigator staring down at them with an unreadable expression on her pale, tear-streaked face. "Everyone is fine, Zoro; just rest."

Without waiting for his reply, she stepped easily past the trio and crossed the deck in resolute silence, shoulders squared and fists clenched firmly at her sides. She met the captain on the steps of the upper deck, and Robin was barely able to catch a fragment of their conversation, but Luffy's grim expression as he leaned on Thaddeus' arm told her enough.

_We're really leaving, then._

Chopper noticed her stricken look and gave a watery, trembling sigh, shifting into Heavy Point once again to move Zoro in from the stormy weather. The swordsman was out again, his breathing deeper and steadier with natural sleep instead of trauma-induced unconsciousness, so the task was simple enough that he would not need her help this time. She watched him disappear below deck, taking away her only distraction from the terrifying reality that they were about to leave three of their crewmates behind.

Nami looked back at the archaeologist standing alone on the Sunny's lawn, her brown eyes glittering with fresh tears. But then she managed to smile, a real, genuine smile for the first time since they had woken up to this nightmarish situation only hours ago. "These ships are in danger out here, Robin-chan. We can't wait for them on the open sea."

Robin picked up on what her hints were suggesting, and she felt a smile tug on her own lips. "That's very true."

"I'm going to need all the help I can get to pull everyone to safety."

"You can count on us, Nami." Brook's long, thin fingers gripped her shoulder, and Robin gave a slight nod in agreement. "We'll do all that we can, just lead the way."

Thaddeus shrugged his coat off and stepped forward, leaning over the railing to face the crew with equal resolve; Robin thought it was a commendable quality that he possessed, ready and humble enough to roll up his sleeves and work alongside the rest of them despite not even being a part of their crew (and a captain, no less). "I'll give the signal to my crew and assist you all as well; but we have to move quickly."

Nami nodded and looked at their own captain, who was leaning heavily against the wall of the third level, eyes closed and jaw clenched in pain. "Luffy?"

"Nami, just tell me what to do."

That was all she needed to hear. They sprang into action under the navigator's orders, and the Siet followed their lead into the stormy sea. Brook worked with Thaddeus to secure the storm jib and furl the main sail, not an easy task while they were being buffeted by strong, heavy winds on all sides. Robin sprouted numerous arms along the ship's running lines and pulled the halyard in, keeping an ear out for Nami's changing directions as they navigated the difficult weather. Somewhere in the middle of easing the tension on the staysail, Chopper rushed out to help her, and he held the boom in place long enough for her to unfurl the sail and catch one of the northbound wind currents.

Their captain stood firm and tall on the helm of the Sunny with a dogged, angry look in his dark eyes. His bandaged fingers were clenched tightly around the handles of the wheel, and he held the ship's direction steady until the next time the navigator gave him the order to turn. Unfortunately, he wasn't always clear on what she meant.

"I said 'off the  _starboard_  bow', captain!" Nami yelled into the shrieking winds, grimacing as the line she was reefing in slipped a few feet and left a stinging rope burn on her hands. "You're turning us to port!"

" _I don't know what that means, Nami!"_  Luffy hollered from the helm, red-faced and furious. He was fighting to turn the wheel in the other direction now, trying to figure out what the navigator was saying.  _"Tell me if it's left or right!"_

_"Right! Turn right!"_

He gave an almighty roar and forced the ship to turn into the direction of the wind, and everyone braced themselves as they entered the full fury of the squall; Robin wasn't even sure if that was sweat or seawater that she tasted on her lips anymore, and she had to squint in order to keep her eyes open. "Are you sure we should be going  _into_  the storm?"

Nami glared at her and held on to her line with all the strength she had, watching the sails slowly lose air. "Trust me; we're heading right into a strong undercurrent from here! We won't need the air anymore!"

Brook threw a backwards glance at the heavy spray of water behind them, blocking their view of the ship behind them. "The Siet…are your men still following us, Captain Thaddeus?"

The man chuckled, strained and low. "I trust Issok to lead my men through Davy Jones' locker and back; he is definitely bringing them after us, Bones."

They were slammed by another powerful wave, nearly knocking them off course, but somehow Luffy held the ship's path steady. In the midst of the impact, Brook was thrown against the railing and loosened his grip on the line he was holding, causing the jig to flap around wildly in the wind. He gave a cry of frustration as he tried to pull the torn sail back in, to no avail.

The navigator noticed what had happened and cut her own sail, running across the slick deck floor to help him before they ended up keeling over in the choppy waves. "Hang on, Brook!"

She hoisted herself aloft on the ship's rigging, clambering up the flailing ropes with all of the dexterity and ease of an acrobat, and Robin watched her drag the edge of the ripped sails back up with her onto the upper boom, tying a makeshift line along the massive beam to hold it in place. Luffy glanced up at her in slack-jawed amazement, and his usual trademark grin was slowly spreading across his ashen face. "That's my navigator!" he shouted, seeming to gain strength from her actions. Robin couldn't help but agree with him; she was really coming through for them. Nami simply grinned and pointed out across the waters at their destination, a mere blur in the distance.

"Unfurl the main a few more knots, and bring the ship to a hard left, captain! We're going to make it!" Luffy nodded and spun the wheel as though he wasn't currently fighting the sea itself to turn the Sunny's bow; the tension in his arms betrayed his struggle, but there was that old fighting spark in his eyes again and an impossibly wide grin on his face. Robin focused solely on his smile as they brought the ship in, even though her limbs were screaming with exhaustion and pain. It was the only way she knew how to keep going.  _Strange, you always make me want to live, captain._

Luffy's laugh cut through the howling storm, and they felt hope and excitement all at once click into place. "Let's bring her in, everyone!"

* * *

Sanji's barrier island was quiet in an eerie, forlorn way. There was an abandoned amusement park on the other end of it, what once must have been quite the tourist attraction. It had fallen to decay and ruin over the years, and they all agreed that it was creepy and not worth going into, even though Chopper was begging them to see if there was any cotton candy left out there. Robin promised him that they would make their own on the ship, but honestly no one knew exactly how the cook spun the sugary treat for their doctor. Brook was the one who got the closest with their attempts, but the result of their efforts was a wiry golden mess on a stick.

Chopper blinked his wide brown eyes and stared at the "cotton candy". Thaddeus ran a hand over his face and said he would bring his own cook over when they located the Black Siet.

"No, it's okay!" Chopper smiled brightly as he dug eagerly into his candy; the end result was as sweet and tasty as regular cotton candy, apparently. "I really like it, Brook!"

The musician smiled at the little reindeer sitting in his lap, bandaged up and smeared in a cool, minty ointment for his numerous burns. "I'm glad, Chopper. It really warms my heart…oh, wait, I don't have one anymore!"

He chuckled mirthfully as the others muttered "Skull joke" under their breath, but all of them were smiling. They couldn't really find his sense of humor annoying anymore, not when they had all been so close to losing each other (and had to leave three of their own behind only a day earlier). It was funny how they only realized how much every one of their crew meant to them when they were almost gone. Robin leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat as she thought of their nakama left behind on Staithe; they were only a short, albeit dangerous trip across the water on the mainland, but right now they might as well have been with Ener on the moon for all that they were out of reach.

Brook continued playing with Chopper, snatching away a bit of the "cotton candy" from the puffy cloud in the reindeer's hooves; Robin glanced up in surprise when he offered it to her. "It's going to be alright, Robin."

The sweet, grainy strands mingled with the salty taste on her tongue, but she didn't let her tears fall. "Thank you, Brook."

He hummed and looked out at the grey waves, thinking out loud about the songs that he might compose after that perilous trip through the storm. She found herself nodding lightly, taking another bite from the sticky treat in her fingers, and Chopper jumped up and ran back to the ship to grab another handful, leaving the rest to reflect alone on the cold, empty beach.

It was a strange, melancholy island.

(Of course, quiet never lasted long when it came to the Straw Hats.)

* * *

The reunion between Thaddeus and his crew was heartfelt and loud and excited, and Nami didn't miss the way that Luffy's hands fisted in the sheets as he watched them chatter happily with each other. He was probably thinking of the crew that he was forced to leave behind on the island, though she was glad that he had trusted her decision. His faith had given her the strength that she needed to get them all out of the storm.

"And out here, we can rest and regroup without those other pirate crews harassing us over that Khalashtrogos man," she said softly, clasping her hands over Luffy's heavily bandaged ones. "Okay, Luffy?"

Zoro glanced down at the pair, arms folded over his chest as he stood guard (no, he did not _hover)_ at their side on the kitchen lounge. He was still upset that he had been out cold while they had needed his help during the storm, but Chopper had assured him that they had been fine and that it was better for him to have rested anyway. "You made a tough call, Nami."

The navigator smiled weakly at him. "You think we should have stayed."

" _I_  would have stayed and fought…but I don't disagree with your choice." He placed a hand on Luffy's shoulder and took a deep breath, looking away sharply. "We're alive because of you. So, thanks."

Nami thought about Usopp and Franky turning back to fight in the middle of the battleground that was once the safe port of Staithe Wharf and shook her head. "It wasn't just me," she sighed, feeling tired despite having slept off the worst of her injuries from the storm. "Everyone did their own part, and you can thank those two idiots later, when they get back and-"

She choked on her last words, afraid that she might actually end up crying again. It was ridiculous; she trusted them to be alright, so why was she still getting emotional? Zoro seemed to understand, and he brought back two unopened bottles from the alcohol cabinet, smirking at her incredulous glare. "Don't give me that look."

"Zoro, it's four in the afternoon."

"And it's officially late enough to justify breaking out the booze. Come on; it'll take the edge off."

She closed her eyes and grinned wryly, rubbing casually at the aching, bruised skin under her eyes and hoping that he hadn't seen her tears. The great lug probably didn't even care; those things never did matter to him. 

"You're incorrigible," she finally grinned, popping the cork off the first bottle and taking a long drag from it.

"This coming from the cat burglar herself," he grunted, following suit when she handed it back to him. Luffy slowly snuck the second flask away from them and tried to open it, hissing when his hands failed him. The swordsman snatched it away from him with a scowl. "Oi, Luffy; you don't even drink."

"I was feeling left out, you bully."

Zoro rolled his eyes. "If you're going to mes-"

The door burst open in that moment; Robin and Brook flanked a pair of newcomers with a calmness that belied the battered, bruised appearance of the four of them. The archaeologist had her arms up in a clutch stance, her extra limbs wrapped around the person in the middle, and the other was holding that same stranger at gunpoint. Brook's sword was drawn and pressed firmly against the first stranger’s throat, though none of them looked tense or worried in the slightest. 

  
  


Nami's jaw dropped. "W-what the heck is going on?"

  
  


"We were attacked by an intruder, Navigator-san." Robin jerked her head at the villain in her grasp, who simply fixed a cold glare on the pirates. "And then this gentleman came along and helped us restrain her."

  
  


Zoro narrowed his eyes and moved protectively in front of Nami and Luffy. "And who the hell are you?"

  
  


The second stranger looked away from the edge of Brook's blade, where he had been…admiring his reflection? He cocked his head at the two crews and smiled lazily, trying to give them what they imagined was supposed to be a wink. "Hello, I'm Handsome."

  
  


Robin and Brook raised an eyebrow but said nothing, continuing to guard their captive and tentative ally while the rest tried to figure out what was going on. Luffy furrowed his brow and seemed to be studying the tall blond man closely. 

  
  


"You kinda remind me of someone. Have we met before? Are you a friend of ours?"

  
  


"Luffy, that idiot is definitely not our friend," Zoro growled, sliding Wado out a little and shifting into a fighting stance. "Let me just get rid of them both right now."

  
  


"Wait, we don't even know exactly what they're after," Nami said, moving between Zoro and the captives. She glanced at the stranger on the right, who had gone back to preening at his own reflection, much to Brook's discomfort. He looked like he wanted to put his sword away even if it meant letting his guard down. The first stranger, however, rolled her eyes and began struggling again.

  
  


"I can't believe I actually got captured by a group of morons like this one," she grumbled, wincing when Robin's clutch tightened to the point of actual pain. "If it hadn't been for this narcissistic fool, I might have actually gotten Straw Hat's head out of all of this."

  
  


Zoro snorted. So she was a bounty hunter? "What makes you think that you would ever have made it that far?"

  
  


The woman grinned slyly and relaxed in Robin's hold, the warning sign that they ended up missing. "Oh, I have my ways,  _ Roronoa _ . Watch your head."

  
  


Robin gave a sharp cry, clutching her injured arm to her chest as Brook quickly moved to protect her. The bounty hunter lunged at Zoro with her own drawn blade and almost caught him across the face, but the swordsman dodged it just in time and threw himself out of the way of her second attack, able to grab a hold of Luffy just before the lounge split in two under the power of the blow. Nami brought her Clima-Tact out and blocked the woman before she could go after the pair again, but the aftershock threw her against the wall with a horrible slam.

  
  


" _ Nami _ !"

  
  


Luffy's cry hadn't even died when their attacker was on the ground, a slim, long harpoon buried deep in the floorboards, just mere inches from her face. The second man looked down at her coolly and said, "Hey, what is it that you think you're doing?"

  
  


The bounty hunter glared and tried to reach for her sword, but a heavy black boot pinned her arm down just as swiftly. "Bastard…I'm just trying to escape…"

  
  


The blond-haired man looked over at Luffy and the others, and the captain shook his head fervently. He grinned and drove the harpoon further into the wood, making a loud, grinding sound as the floor gave way under the sharp steel.

  
  


"Hm, I don't think I can do that, bub. But why don't you just try this narcissistic fool, if you're feeling lucky, and see how long you live with a good dose of Scorpion's Poison pumping through your heart? Should we try that?"

  
  


"Shit, I said I would leave, didn't I?" She threw a desperate glance at Luffy, to which Zoro simply glared and shoved the boy behind him. "Hey, get your stupid guard dog off of me; I promise not to attack anymore."

  
  


The captain gave her a long, blank stare, and the man began to sweat nervously as the minutes stretched on. "Well, if you promise…"

  
  
  


“I promise, okay?”

  
  


Zoro smirked; there was no way that Luffy had ever intended to let her go, especially not after what she had done to his crewmates. The bounty hunter lay unconscious and beaten on the floor, and Luffy stepped away from her slowly, shaking his hands out gingerly and wincing at the pain, letting Chopper fuss over him worriedly and berate him for being so careless with the damage to his hands. "It's fine, Chopper; let me talk to the handsome guy again."

  
  


"You called?" The man's face lit up with a brilliant beam, and he ripped the harpoon out of the ground with a violent crunch. Everyone cringed; the kitchen floor was ruined, and there was definitely something dripping off the steel pole and burning the edges of the hole even further. It seemed that he hadn't been lying when he threatened to poison the bounty hunter.

  
  


Luffy scratched his head. "Um, yeah? Why did you come save us?"

  
  


The man grinned even wider, and he clutched his purple-poison coated harpoon to his chest gleefully, oblivious to the dripping toxin melting a hole in the floor at his feet. "You're kidding, right? I would do anything for Master Black Leg's crew!"

  
  


"…you know our cook?" Robin looked up from where she was propped up against the wall, still cradling her injured arm to her body. "May I ask who you are, sir?"

  
  


"I am the villain formerly known as Iron Mask Duval, sweet southern belle," he crooned, trying and failing to wink at her suavely. "But you can just call me Gorgeous."

  
  


Zoro was helping a shaky Nami to her feet, and she almost fell over at his statement. "Oh God, not another one," she groaned under her breath, leaning heavily on the swordsman. "Please tell me Luffy isn't going to ask him to join us."

  
  


"Hey, join my crew, Duval!"

  
  


With a weary sigh, Zoro shook his head at the navigator. "You had to bring it up, didn't you?"

  
  


Duval didn't seem to notice nor care about their less-than-enthusiastic words. He waved a familiar little object at Luffy and shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but I already have my own crew. I was just stopping by to return this to the young master, but I guess he's not here." 

  
  


Luffy stared at the slim, gold-covered lighter in his outstretched hand. Slowly taking in his own bandaged hands, the captain flicked it open with a faraway look in his eyes. 

  
  


"Duval, how do you know Sanji?"

  
  


"Oh, it's sort of a long story."

  
  


"We have time," Luffy muttered, tucking the lighter into his pocket and sitting down across from the tall man.. Curious, the others drew closer now that they knew that the danger was over. Zoro and Brook quickly made sure that the bounty hunter was properly restrained and tied up before they joined the crew near the table, and Thaddeus and Issok stood guard over their captive somberly, keeping an eye on him in case he woke up and tried to attack again.

  
  


"Young master has got himself into some trouble, hasn't he?" Duval grinned knowingly and rested his cheek in his hand, reaching into his jacket and drawing out an old bounty poster. He laid it flat on the ground and let them lean in to take a look. "Funny thing is, that's exactly how I met him, too."

 

 

 


	9. Ghosts on the island

Chopper was sitting at the kitchen table amidst a shelf's worth of medical journals and books, a dazed, incredulous look on his face as he stared down at his handwritten charts from the previous day. The pen shook in his hand while he tried to edit them. "Mr. Duval, sir; do you want to run all that by me again?"

"Sure, strange little reindeer man." The man rattled off the list like he was simply reciting his grocery list instead of their cook's currently known injuries. "My boys almost blew him up and then he sort of landed wrong on his right shoulder, Motobaro smashed up at least one or two ribs, oh, I got him good right beneath those, and then there was our fistfight on the beach. He rearranged my face, literally, but i did give him a _boss_ right hook before I went down."

"Don't forget that you fucking  _poisoned_  him," Zoro snarled, struggling to get free of Thaddeus' iron grip on his arms. He was going to murder this idiot for even thinking about hurting the shitcook. Why the hell had the cook even gone to meet this bastard alone? And why hadn't he said anything to them? He should have at least gotten looked over by the doctor, that fucking  _idiot_. 

Duval waved his hand dismissively. "I gave him the antidote, don't worry. With a little rest he should have been up and about already. Isn't that why he's not around right now?"

"Oh, he's up and about alright," Brook laughed nervously, looking at the grim-faced men and women spread around the room in pensive silence. "That's…exactly the problem."

"Uh-huh, what else is new?" Duval peered at his reflection in the concave side of one of Sanji's favorite mixing bowls; the smooth gleaming metal surface was a perfect mirror for the self-absorbed man who couldn't seem to get enough of his new face. They were having a hard time believing his whole story, but when he showed them the clear signs of his battle with Sanji in the demolished amusement park, they had started to wonder how they had missed the fact that their crewmate had managed to disappear for hours to track down this man, fight him, save him, and return before lunchtime, without any of them noticing that something was off. As Duval put it, the cook could be sly and deceptive when he wanted to be. "He seems to have a habit of wandering away from you guys, doesn't he?"

Luffy frowned and drew the blankets around his shoulders closer, shivering despite the feverish look in his eyes. He was pushing himself too far again, but Zoro knew that he wouldn't rest until he had all the answers that he wanted from Duval, and even then he might still try to go after Usopp and Franky on the island.

"He could have at least introduced us," the boy mumbled, burying his face in the warm blankets and leaning against Zoro's shoulder tiredly. "You're pretty cool, Duval; why didn't you come say hi?"

Zoro smiled darkly. "Yes, why didn't you come in?"  _Bastard, I would have mauled you for what you did to him; you're lucky the cook is so damn sneaky._

"Well, I would have asked, but then he asked me to help him sneak back onto your ship," Duval shrugged, gesturing at the boat's huge size. "I guess he was still pretty sore after our battle and couldn't get up the side of the boat. He just pointed up at the railing and said 'up'." The man sighed blissfully at the memory of the young master looking over his shoulder with a plaintive look, pale face framed by his blue hood and golden hair. "I thought I had died and gone to heaven; it was too adorable."

"Adorable?" Now Zoro was absolutely certain that this guy was an idiot. There was nothing adorable about the curly-cook, not with all of his foul language and fouler attitude and stupid skirt-chasing habits. Add to that his secretive actions and lack of communication with the crew and he was practically indefensible.

"Yes, so of course I jumped at the chance to ogle his behin- …I mean, help him. Yep." Duval smiled innocently and began to back away from the livid swordsman. "He smells like sugar cookies and saffron under all that cigarette smoke, did you know that?"

"The answer to a question I never asked," Zoro muttered, drawing out his white handled sword for the occasion of smiting this bastard. "I'm going to kill you now, alright?"

"Zoro, calm down." Nami grabbed his arm and moved in front of him to prevent him from taking another step towards Duval. "He didn't mean anything by it; isn't that right, Duval? Because you know that if you ever did do something inappropriate to Sanji-kun, the angry swordsman would be the least of your worries, okay?"

The man towered over her by several feet, but somehow he managed to look like a little child cowering in the face of the navigator's dangerous glare, and he nodded meekly. "Yes, ma'am."

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat in the awkward silence, and then everyone glanced in the doctor's direction. Chopper peered up at them from behind his pile of books, fixing a questioning look on Duval. "Mr. Duval, you sound very knowledgeable about medical care; you haven't by any chance heard of the Staithe virus, have you?"

"Ah, sorry, little man; you would want to talk to Cathrio, my crew's doctor. He's probably halfway to Sabaody with the others by now." Duval smiled apologetically and sat down next to the little reindeer at the table. "I'm no expert, but I've studied enough anatomy texts to help me get by. You have to know something about the human body before you begin to play around with caustic materials and poisons, and that just happens to be one of my favorite hobbies."

"Oh. What is it that you do, then?"

"Me? I'm one of the leaders of a slave trafficking ring based on the Sabaody Archipelago and Fishman Island, as well as an extortionist and a kidnapper."

Nami shared a glance with her captain and the others. "Should we be worried about this?"

"Sanji seems to trust him, if the lighter that he lent him is any indicator of their good terms," Robin replied lightly, tugging carefully at the white bandages around her forearm. "Besides, he doesn't appear to harbor any ill intentions towards us."

"I could have told you that," Duval rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his makeshift mirror. Honestly, how full of himself could one man possibly be? Zoro had never seen anyone primp more than the navigator and cook combined. "Black Leg did so much for me already; why would I want to harm his crew? He really cares about you guys."

"You know that, Duval?" Robin's eyes twinkled as she watched him study his reflection intently. The man nodded distractedly, not looking up from the reflective silver surface. "Yeah, it's why he came after me alone, because he thought that I was going to hurt you all. If you don't believe me, ask him yourself when he gets back."

A chuckle cut Robin's response off, and she glanced warily at the corner of the room where the Lathos pirates were guarding their prisoner.

"If they actually expect him to," the bounty hunter laughed, staring calmly at the sudden array of weapons pointed straight at him. "It's not hard to pick up on what happened to him, idiot. He's been infected with the Staithe virus, which is what that little raccoon is trying so hard to cure. Isn't that right?"

"First of all, he's a reindeer," Nami snapped, holding her Clima-Tact out defensively in front of Luffy and Zoro. "Secondly-"

"Nami, leave him," Luffy grunted, pulling himself to his feet behind the swordsman, clenching his injured hands into fists in front of his chest. "What the hell are you suggesting, bastard? That we have no faith in our comrades?"

The man rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yeah, yeah, I heard your sentimental spiel about comrades and trust. That's not going to save him from the virus. Oh, but you don't really know all the nice, gory details about it, do you?"

He smirked at Chopper, who glared fearfully at him from behind Duval's leg. "Go on and tell them, 'doctor'. You've read the reports, haven't you? About how the body cooks itself…how its own fluids broil its flesh alive…ha, what an ironic end for a chef!"

Zoro felt his stomach give a horrible lurch. That…couldn't be true, could it? He should be able to tell if the man was lying or not, but he was almost afraid of finding out. Instead, he stared fixedly at the back of the doctor's pink hat, willing him to say something; anything was better than not knowing (and yet, at the same time, he didn't think that he actually wanted to find out). Beside him, he felt Luffy take a shuddering breath.

"Is that true, Chopper?"

Chopper lowered his gaze back at the book in his hands, and he noticed that his shoulders were trembling. "It's all a lot more complicated than that-"

"But it's basically what happens.The truth of the matter is that your precious cook is probably already a dead man."

"You're wrong." The reindeer drew himself up and jutted his chin out defiantly at the bounty hunter. "Maybe the virus is incredibly strong and lethal, and maybe the symptoms are some of the most gruesome and awful that I've ever read up on, but that doesn't change the fact that he is going to come back."

The man stared at him impassively, mouth set in a grim line. "Your faith is cute, but completely misplaced. No one has ever come back from that virus alive."

"You've never heard of Captain Duparis, then?" Issok looked at the bounty hunter with a questioning frown, though he kept his pistol aimed at the man's head. "Survived the virus and managed to get the cure all the way into the Biles. There's got to be a chance for the cook if that rumor is true."

The bounty hunter looked stunned, and then his features twisted into a furious scowl. "Duparis didn't-"

A boot slammed into his chest, cutting him off before he could get any further. Zoro glared at Duval, but the man just shrugged and looked back down at the prisoner. "I've seen you around the Sabaody auctions before, so let's cut all the crap, Sardoc. You never go after bigger bounties like Straw Hat boy…what exactly are you doing here?"

Sardoc grimaced.

* * *

_It starts with a gauntlet and a challenge._

_Simple, one-on-one swordsmanship, no seconds, no time limit, to first blood._

_Sardoc has the strength and health of his youth, and he grips his sword with both hands firmly, locking eyes with his opponent confidently._

_On the opposite side of the field of honour, Roronoa Quinto raises his own blade coolly, and the representative gives the call to attack._

_They lunge at each other silently, and steel clashes sharply in the crisp winter island air. The audience watches the display of skill and grace appreciatively, and both men move swiftly across the freshly fallen snow, leaving light tracks all around the pearly white garden as they fight. The air sings with the whistling slashes of their swords cutting long, sweeping arcs in the brightly lit evening, and then they connect again. Roronoa's eyes bore into Sardoc's, and they are shimmering with equal intensity and determination._

_They pull away and turn, and Sardoc cuts the front of his shirt down the middle, just narrowly missing his skin. Roronoa inhales and backs away, falling into a defensive position as he verifies that he is unhurt. His tan skin is unbroken and whole, and he raises his head sharply at Sardoc, who merely smirks and prepares to attack again._

_The fight becomes harsher now, with more close strikes and precise movements, and Sardoc knows that he is gaining the upper hand. He worked hard for this; he deserves this. Roronoa is going to fall at his hand, and then he will be one step closer to being the greatest. All he has to do is just-_

_A sharp cry bursts from his lips, and he stares down at the thin, shallow red line across his chest, right over his thundering heart. Blood tickles down over his skin slowly as he lowers his weapon in shock. Roronoa moves to a resting position, and then bows his head deferentially at him._

_It's over._

_Fury fills him up from the inside of his burning chest, and the way Roronoa pretends to respect him stings worse than the miserably pitiful wound on his chest. Before he can even think about his actions, Sardoc stabs at him with everything he has, and Roronoa whirls around to block him, but it isn't Roronoa who stops him._

_An unusual weight halts his sword in its path, and then he is looking at the familiar stark outline of a sharply dressed figure perched at the end of his blade. Duparis' left foot is blocking the tip of the sword from piercing Roronoa's back, and the other is laid flat on the broad side of the blade._

_He glares at the lone blue eye looking at him in a sidelong glance, and then his blood runs as cold as the wintry night when the pirate captain speaks._

_"The moment you raised your sword at my right hand man's back in disrespect was the moment you lost the privilege of your right hand."_

_The sword shatters with a subtle twist of the captain's feet, and the last memory he has of Duparis is of watching blood splatter across the pirate's perfectly tailored suit._

_He is left staring at the pristine white snow stain crimson underneath him, and the sound of a pair of loafers crunching through the snow fills his ears._

* * *

Nami almost screamed, clinging to Luffy and Chopper in fear and horror. " _He took your hand_?"

Sardoc fixed a thunderous glare at her. "And ruin his reputation? No, Duparis wouldn't do something like that, though he was really close to doing it. They called him the Gentleman Pirate, but if you ever took a good look into his eyes, you would see the scoundrel that he really was."

"S-so Zoro's dad was his first mate?" Luffy's lip was trembling when he spoke, though he managed to compose himself after the fright of hearing about Sardoc's crude near-amputation.

"Yes, the famed  _Cascabela_  swordsmaster, one of the speed swordsmen of the East Blue. His blade had the full power and bite of a viper; he didn't need to cut deep in order to defeat you. I learned that the hard way when he arrived on the Grand Line after joining Captain Duparis."

Zoro stared at the bounty hunter in bewilderment. He had known from an early age that his father had been an excellent swordsman, part of the reason he had ended up at the Isshin dojo when he was a child to train under Kuina's father. The fact that he had also been a pirate came as a shock to him; his mother had never mentioned that when she spoke of him, but then again she rarely spoke of him to begin with. Then, Sardoc's actions began to make sense; as a bounty hunter, he shouldn't have given himself away to his target in front of a large group of people, not like this. "You weren't after Luffy at all, were you?"

Sardoc scowled and struggled against the ropes around his torso uncomfortably. "No, not really. I was only passing through the port when I noticed you on the southern piers, and when I finally took a look at your face, I knew who you were. Imagine my surprise when I get a hold of your bounty poster and see just what Roronoa Quinto's boy was worth."

"I hope you aren't looking for a rematch, because I have no idea where he is now," Zoro muttered, furrowing his brow as he kept his sword pointed at the bounty hunter.

"I'm not going to delude myself with that, boy," the man chuckled sourly, shrugging his right shoulder slowly. "After what Duparis did to my arm…well, he might as well have taken my hand anyway, for all that I can use a sword properly anymore."

"Then what do you want with me?"

"Nothing, honestly. Can you begrudge a washed-up swordsman a single trip down memory lane?" There was a glint in Sardoc's eyes that warned him not to trust this man, especially after he had twice attacked his friends in the space of an hour. "I just felt like sharing a piece of my past with an  _honorable_  fellow swordsman."

"You didn't come here to chat with your rival's son, Sardoc." Thaddeus narrowed his eyes and stepped forward in front of the Straw Hats first mate, vigilant and tense. "The young man over there was right; there's something else going on."

A slow, careful smile spread across the former swordsman's face, and he leaned back against the wall in exaggerated calmness. "You know, I'd be surprised if the cook survived the explosion at the Dockmaster's office yesterday. The bomb was aimed quite precisely at the side of the building that his cell was in, if I remember properly."

"Aimed…?" Luffy's eyes widened in realization. "You're with the pirates who attacked us…"

"Me, working with HQ's hired help on behalf of the Project? That's a heavy accusation, Straw Hat." Sardoc didn't even bat an eyelash when he was hefted off the ground by the Straw Hats captain. "Can you back it up?"

"You brought it up for a reason." Luffy shook him furiously, a look of desperation in his eyes. "What's this about a Project? Are you saying that it was all planned from the start?"

"I'm saying that there are a lot of coincidences for what was supposed to be a vaccine and a simple mistake, no? Or do you really believe that the cannonfire that took down the Dockmaster's office was a stray shot?" Sardoc raised his brow and glared down at Luffy's hands as they tightened around his throat. "E-even his holding...his holding c-cell..."

His voice petered out and he choked out a breath. Luffy's expression was dark and thunderous; though his hands were shaking from the pain, he didn't stop tightening his fingers around Sardoc's throat. Even his injuries weren't enough to snap him out of his delirium.

"What I don't understand is this: why did they want to hurt one of my nakama? What did Sanji do to th-the...the Project? What did Sanji ever do to you?"

Zoro could hear the hurt tone in Luffy's voice; he was really scared for the cook, unable to help him while they were stuck out here waiting for Usopp and Franky to bring him back. Helplessness was something that he didn't know how to deal with, and his frustration was bleeding out into the rest of his actions. With a sigh, the first mate reached over and gently pried his fingers away from the bounty hunter's neck. "Luffy, let it go; he's not worth it. Save your strength for when you really need it."

Luffy's hands hung limply at his sides, and he gave a small shudder as he rested his forehead against Zoro's shoulder. "I just want Sanji back."

Nami looked worriedly at their captain; she had never seen him look so small and exhausted. A thought crossed her mind, and the navigator slipped into the infirmary to retrieve the trademark straw hat from the bed.

Luffy glanced up in surprise when she shoved it on his head without ceremony.

"Hey, Luffy?" Nami smiled brightly at him as he reached up hesitantly to grasp the hat's brim. "Remember the reason that we left Usopp and Franky behind?"

Robin joined the crew around the captain, and Brook followed suit as well. "Usopp is a resourceful, clever thinker, and Franky's a brilliant mind," the archaeologist reminded him, squeezing his shoulder gently. "They're going to find our cook and bring him back safely."

"It doesn't hurt that they're inoculated against the mainland's virus ridden forests," Brook added helpfully, "and that between the two of them, they have an arsenal of ammunition for defense. In fact, they've probably found Sanji and are heading back this very minute."

Luffy's smile was getting brighter by the second. "They're probably at the port…no, they're probably coming up the wiggly current right now! We'll have to celebrate with lots of food, right?"

" _After_  I cure the two of you," Chopper corrected him. "Then we can have all the food that you want."

"Eh, I like that plan. Let's do that."

Zoro grinned and allowed their captain to pull him into a group hug; his laughter was definitely infectious. They handed the bounty hunter off to Duval, just in case the man was planning to lead any of the surviving pirate crews to the little barrier island to attack them again. He was to take Sardoc straight back to Sabaody to hand him off to the authorities, although he said that couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't rough him up with his crew a little ("What can I say? I'm a crook.").

"Say hi to the young master for me," Duval called over his shoulder, dragging him towards the doorway as he said his goodbyes to the crew. "Tell him that Handsome will come a-calling again soon."

"He won't survive," Sardoc grunted, struggling in Duval's grasp as the other hauled him onto the giant bison splashing around blissfully in the shallows near the Sunny and the Siet. Duval nodded dismissively and turned the bison towards the open sea. "Sure, sure…"

"He can't-"

"He  _will_ ," Chopper insisted, folding his arms across his chest and frowning at the bounty hunter. "But you won't be around to see him or to bother any of us again. You bully, you don't get to hurt us anymore."

At Chopper's admonishing tone, something in Sardoc's demeanor changed. He stopped fighting Duval and slumped in his bonds, bowing his head as he paused to save his energy for more than the useless effort of escaping. He was too tightly bound for something like that, and he seemed to have realized it. There was a curious smile on what they could see of his face, but what stuck with the crew the most was his last words to them. "If that's what makes you happy...I'm glad you can believe that much."

* * *

_The sea stretches out endlessly before them, a great, wide expanse of rolling white-capped waves on the deep blue waters. Squatting low and dark on the horizon is the long-sought island port that had refused to register on any of their maps and charts, and even the log pose had overlooked it._

_Luckily, they have an excellent navigator on board._

_He breathes the sea spray coming up from the ship's bow and tastes salt on his lips, and there is only the vaguest thought in the back of his mind that the figurehead is all wrong (but what kind of a ship would bear a lion's head at the bow anyway?); he shrugs it off easily and accepts the smooth, sleek serpent's head at the forefront of his ship instead._

_A familiar clink of golden earrings catches his attention, and he glances over his shoulder at the navigator watching him from the helm. The wind teases and needles at some frizzy strands loosed from his ponytail, the constant ocean spray slicking them across the bridge of his nose, his brow, his eyes...they're shadowed eyes and weary from want of sleep, but also gleam with the sharp luster of gold._

_"I've pictured it every night and day in my mind for a year; I've tattooed it to my mind's eye. Tell me something: was it any less real than this?"_

_"Roronoa Quinto," he says in a voice that isn't quite his own. "I have never doubted that once; that it was real, and that you could find it."_

_His expression doesn't change, but he tilts his head towards the island in question, taut and serious. "That may be true, but you didn't answer my question."_

_He doesn't know what to say to that, or how to reason it out without upsetting his companion, but then Quinto slips into a crooked but genuine smile that makes his chest feel tight, bound, and for a moment he thinks to himself, this is not my body. But then laughter fills up his mouth, and he joins his first mate and navigator at the ship's wheel, and they watch Staithe Wharf grow larger and larger as they approach. "We'll have to see when we get there, won't we?"_

_The clothes feel right, but he can't seem to find his center of gravity right now and has to lean against the railing, clutching it with fingers that are awkward and unfamiliar._

_Belatedly, Sanji realizes that this is not his memory._


	10. The new lawful is blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the peaceful, flaming wreckage of Staithe Wharf, one may have a full team of medically trained staff and doctors, but one may not be permitted to administer any kind of aid or treatment on the port. No, that is not at all strange or contradictory. Stop asking questions; we will be forced to take further action against you. Have a good day and enjoy your visit.
> 
> (In which Franky begins to discover just what kind of an island Staithe Wharf really is.)

Exactly twenty-four minutes after the west wing of the Dockmaster's office was hit, the sea port of Staithe Wharf lay in tranquil wait of the approaching storm, though the docks and ships were already battered from the battle between the pirate crews. Smoke drifted down from the smoldering hilltop that supported the damaged building, mingling with the heavy fogs created by the Clima-Tact earlier before the Straw Hats and their allies had made their escape from the port, but even so the broken piers and scattered shrapnel stood out on the rough waters. The pungent smell of burning wood and steaming metal filled the air like the Puffing Tom's exhaust at the Water 7 station on a heavily humid day. The comparison made his stomach roil.

Franky peered out across the misty harbor from the rocky shore below the Sunny's former docking space, ducking down under the boardwalk whenever one of the border guards came too close to his hiding spot. Most of them had already returned to the Inner City through whatever route they had used to invade the docks, but some of them had stayed behind as sentries, roaming the walkways casually and without a single visible weapon on their person.

He scowled. It was a deceptive façade; despite the way they acted like nothing was wrong, he could tell that their increasingly wide sweeps across the harbor were part of a larger search for something.  _Or someone._

They didn't necessarily know that the conflict had been centered largely around his crew, not that they would even know that he was a part of the Straw Hats to begin with (unless they  _hadn't_  turned a blind eye to their pirate status after all), and they probably had already caught the culprits who launched the cannonball at the Dockmaster's offices, too…but it was entirely unlikely that they would just let him walk back into the bombed building so soon after the attack. They might even kill him, or worse, arrest him, he thought, remembering the way that the pirate crews had fallen under their advancing march.

It was too bad that he really didn't care about what they knew or didn't know and what they were after; they would just have to deal with the stubborn shipwright going in anyway (secretly, of course. He wasn't fool enough to take these men on alone, not after what they had proven capable of doing without a single weapon).  _My objective is to find Longnose and Cook-bro anyway and then get the hell out of here._  Franky crawled along the slippery rocks underneath the piers closest to the shore, dragging himself forward little by little as he tried to remember where the offices lay on the harbor. It was difficult to tell from under the boardwalk; he could only guess that he was going in the right direction by the way the acrid, smoky smell grew stronger and stronger.

"Ugh, what the heck is this smell?"

He covered his nose and wondered if this might warrant a checkup from the doctor later on; he was sure that this wasn't just a newfound ability to sense and feel through his metal prosthetics. Narrowing his watery eyes, he pushed onward, grunting slightly when his foot slipped on the seaweed plastered rocks and hit the water with an audible splash. One of the guards approached the end of the pier, and he could hear the man's steps echo heavily over his head as he tried to shrink away from the open edge, hoping that he wouldn't think to look underneath the docks.  _Please, just keep going._

After several tense moments, where he was holding his breath anxiously while the guard paced back and forth just overhead, the man finally left with a muttered "must have been the waves. Damn storm."

"That was close," Franky muttered, foolishly bringing his head up and meeting the thick wooden boardwalk with a solid clunk.

The man's steps halted immediately when the boards reverberated with the thump.

"Oh,  _fuck_."

Before he could plot out how he was going to get out of this one (his best option was to act natural and give the sentry a cheery, casual 'hi', while his favorite was to just jump out and rush into the building with all guns blazing), the ground shifted and dropped out from underneath him like a trapdoor, and he fell at an impossible angle for approximately four and a half seconds before hitting the ground in an unceremonious heap.

Franky sat up hesitantly, looking around at his new, cavernlike surroundings with a disbelieving, wide-eyed stare. "…did I just fall  _sideways_?"

"Um, that would be my fault." He glanced at the young woman huddled against the opening of the tunnel, giving her an open-mouthed look that eloquently said,  _huh_? "Sorry."

It took him a minute to recognize her, but with all the dirt and soot that covered her slight figure he figured that he had a right to be confused. "Oi, you're the doctor that stood up to Chopper earlier."

She ducked her head sheepishly and nodded, clutching the lantern in her hands tightly. "I-is he alright? I'm really sorry about what happened-"

"Forget it."

Franky sighed at the hurt expression on her face. Did she have to look so sad and distressed? He didn't mean anything by what he said; it was easier to just leave everything in the past, especially since she hadn't actually done anything against him and his crew. She had even stepped in front of their swordsman to take what she had believed to be an attack from their enraged doctor, displaying a type of bravery that only came with a true desire to help others. For all that she had known, Chopper could have been ready to kill Zoro, and yet she protected him.

The young doctor rubbed her arm nervously. "You have every right to be mad at me, I understand that I was one of the doctors who administered the vaccine that ended up harming your friend. You probably think that we did it knowingly."

He cocked his head at her expectantly. "Yeah…?"

"Wait, you still actually think that we would hurt your friend on  _purpose_?" Suddenly, the woman stepped forward and glared indignantly at the shipwright, dark grey eyes narrowed and lips pursed angrily. "That's completely insulting to me and my fellow colleagues; I'll have you know we studied for years to be able to help people. I took the bloody Hippocratic  _oath_!"

A chuckle escaped his lips, and he held his hands up in a placating manner. "Now you're starting to sound like little Reindeer-doc."

She looked confused, as though unsure of whether she was meant to take it as a compliment or an insult.

"It's a good thing; I promise." Franky smiled at her and removed his sunglasses, brushing the dirt off the lenses. "I believe you. I could tell from the beginning that you had never intended to hurt any one of my friends."

"B-but…you were giving me such a hard time back at the holding room…"

"I was upset," he shrugged at her bewildered face. "My friend is really sick and no one seemed to be willing to even  _try_  to help him. Not to mention that old geezer had him thrown into what basically turns out to be a cell, let's be honest."

She was silent. Her lip trembled, and then she bit down on it to try to restrain herself. A few tears escaped her eyes anyway. "…yeah, you're right."

The doctor slid down the wall of the tunnel and sat across from him, hugging herself miserably as she struggled to hold in her hiccoughing sobs. "I'm sorry, we did you all a great wrong back there. The truth is, none of us have been doctors in a really long time."

Franky frowned but said nothing, seeing that she still had more to say. "Doctors…doctors don't administer drugs mindlessly to their patients just because they've been ordered to by some faceless bureaucrats that run the island from God knows where in their cushy, hidden headquarters. They don't lock up a dying man away from his friends and from anyone who could save him just because they're scared. They don't-"

Her voice broke and she looked away, the light from the lantern casting long shadows across her face. "They don't bring harm to others."

The two of them sat quietly in the dark, listening to her sniffling breaths and the rustling of her dirty sleeve being dragged across her wet eyes. Then she gave a short laugh, prompting him to look at her with a questioning frown.

"I wanted to be a real doctor, for once in my life."

Franky looked down at her tear-streaked, bittersweet smile. "Why are you telling me what a doctor doesn't do? Tell me what a doctor  _does_  do instead, then do it."

Her face crumbled, and he felt a thrill of dread shoot through his chest. Oh, she was going to cry, wasn't she? He couldn't handle seeing her cry again; it would be enough to get  _him_  going, and then where would they be?

She shook her head. "I-I…I can't. It goes against the orders from headquarters; we aren't supposed to do anything not mandated by the inoculation procedures. They'll shut everything down, and the Dockmaster…"

"Isn't it what you want, though?" Franky scowled at her when she shrank back and lowered her gaze. "Why the hell are you letting others tell you what to do?"

"You don't understand; they'll blame the Dockmaster, and then they'll take me away from him." Her eyes were bright with fear and desperation. "I want nothing more than to help people; but I can't lose the only home I've ever known."

He thought about Water 7, and how hard it had been for him to let go of his own home and of Tom, and he realized that he could understand her feelings. As much as it pained him to see this young woman stifling her own dreams for some vague, oppressive bureaucracy somewhere out on this island, he knew that there was no way he could force her to rebel, not when she was so obviously scared and lonely. "That Dockmaster…he's taken care of you since you were little, hasn't he?"

Her only home…the looks that Franky had seen her give the old man when they were sitting in the offices earlier suddenly made sense. There was an underlying tenderness in their limited interaction with each other that belied their relationship, that of a proud father and a devoted daughter. The Dockmaster, as cowardly and ineffectual as he was, had shot Franky a murderous glare when he had continued to press her earlier about Sanji's contaminated vaccine.  _He may just be a grizzled old geezer, but he cares about her._

The young doctor nodded and took a deep breath. "I've never had any family but him. If I do anything against their rules…I'm not afraid of what they can do to me; I'm scared of what they'll do to him."

"Ah, what a complicated mess," Franky groaned, getting to his feet wearily. He couldn't blame her for her fears; that Border Guard was formidable enough that he wasn't sure if his crew could have taken them on, even with all their crew members safe and healthy. Whatever was going on in Staithe Wharf, they were using fear to keep their people quiet and compliant. "It's fine, I get it. Thanks for saving my ass from that guard on the docks anyway."

He managed a couple of shaky steps, but had to stop when he found himself blinking at the black spots in his vision. So, the injuries on his back were finally catching up to him, huh? Not for the first time did he wish that he had the reach required to modify a good armor for his back; he hated how vulnerable he was to attacks from behind.

"Let me help."

The young woman was shaking badly and clutching his arm like it was her lifeline, but her dark eyes were gleaming with determination. "I thought you were scared, kiddo. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

She shook her head. "No, I  _want_  to do this."

The shipwright's eyes widened behind his sunglasses, and then a huge grin spread across his soot-covered face. "…super."

* * *

Ghea had the best bedside manner he had ever received; he asked her why she hadn't been the one to administer his vaccination days ago. It certainly would have made the indignity and pain of having the shot injected into his ass a little more bearable, he told her jokingly, and she laughed before carefully tucking in the end of the bandages wrapped around his torso and setting aside her medical bag. "Does it still hurt?"

"This? Nah, kiddo, you were really gentle; are you sure you actually did anything back there?" Her smile widened and she gave him a firm thump on the back, making him hiss from the pain shooting across his burned back.

"Hm, don't question my treatment methods," Ghea said sweetly, rising to her feet and dusting her clothes off while he writhed on the ground in agony.

"Are all doctors this sadistic?" Franky groaned, remembering the stories that Luffy and Sanji had shared about Chopper's mentor back on his home island. "God, that  _stings_."

"That's going to help the blood start pumping in your damaged blood vessels back here. In a few hours, you'll be as good as new."

He staggered to his feet with a huff, glaring at her retreating back as she took the lit lantern and examined the walls of the cavern closely. "You're pulling my leg, right?"

"Maybe a little, but I really am trying to help you." She pointed at a dilapidated doorway at the end of the tunnel. "That's our exit, Mr. Pirate. Let's go."

"Oi, call me Franky."

"As you wish, Franky." The stairwell was dark and partially caved in, which should have left them trapped in the cramped, short tunnel that he had been dragged into. Franky was about to ask her how she had even gotten them down here when she ordered him to step back. She inhaled deeply and planted her feet flat on the uneven earth, before she thrust her arms out in a powerful strike. The ground rumbled again and to his shock the earth and rubble moved away with a groan, and then with a sweep of her hands even the dust settled immediately.

"Okay, that is awesome." The shipwright looked at her in amazement. "How in the world did you do that, Ghea?"

The young doctor smiled hesitantly. "It's not...I mean, most people would call it a curse, though that's considerably kinder than being called a devil or a monster."

"You ate a Devil Fruit, didn't you?"

"I was too young to remember it, but I did. The Dockmaster says that it was forced upon me and he made me promise to never reveal it to anyone; 'people can be very cruel' is what he told me when I asked him why. I can't say that I've ever found it untrue."

Franky watched her head up the rickety staircase with a grim expression. "Why did you show me if that's what you really believe?"

"I…well, I saw your friends. I've seen you with them during the feasts, from the top deck of this building. You all looked so happy together." Ghea smiled softly at him from the top of the stairs. "Four of them are Devil Fruit users, and yet even they looked like they were accepted. They looked like they belonged."

"Because they do," Franky said, folding his arms across his chest. "They're our nakama, and that goes beyond whatever weirdly awesome abilities that they have. Their place is with us on the Sunny."

"I've always been told that there was no real place for a Devil Fruit user in this world." She stepped through the rotting wooden doorway and led him down a narrower, colder passageway, hesitating until she heard his footsteps behind her. "But maybe I was wrong. That rubber boy…he's your captain, isn't he?"

Franky grinned. "Luffy? Yeah, you won't find a first-rate captain like him on any other ship on all the seas in the world. And as for Devil Fruit users not belonging anywhere…well, if you still need any more convincing, I have a fine crew just waiting to change your mind."

Ghea gave a weak chuckle and reached out to touch a random spot on the wall, and then a flood of lights revealed the room that they were standing in. "I'll definitely keep that in mind, Franky."

They looked around the circular room, wide and more spacious than should have been possible buried this deep underground. The walls had been carved into the bedrock, and there was the distant sound of running water nearby. Were they near the underground ferry and river?

"This is the records office," the doctor told him, running a hand over the nearest of several filing cabinets as she cast a sweeping gaze over the rows and rows of unusual symbols written on the side of the drawers. "It's where most of our patient profiles are stored away once the preliminary vaccination period is over. Even though the river runs by this place, it's completely sealed and waterproofed, and we've never once lost a single page of these records."

"So, what are we doing in this place?" Franky asked, slightly startled when she shoved a stack of booklets into his arms. "Um, is it Sanji's stuff we're looking for?"

"I want to help you save your friend, and that's why we need information first." Ghea opened another drawer and pulled out several thick folders, laying them out on the table. "His profile from the inoculation a few days ago should be in one of these record books. If we split these up, we should definitely be able to find it."

He scratched the back of his head and stared at the lines upon lines of scrawling text and medical jargon, trying to make heads or tails of the document. "Is 'Twelve Adson' a name or an address?"

The file slipped from his hands and exploded on the floor, letting close to a hundred pages spilling all over the ground. Franky smiled sheepishly at her and shrugged.

"Maybe…I should take care of this… _alone_."

He ended up standing in the corner with his nose to the wall and his hands clasped obediently in front of him, trying to keep from causing Ghea any more trouble than what he had already managed to do in the three minutes since they had entered the records room. "Hey, what are those really tall shelves over on that end?"

"I told you not to move!"

His head snapped back to face the wall. "Sorry. But there's something weird about them; shouldn't you take a look?"

The young woman didn't even glance at them. "They're just the stacks, where the really old records are kept. No one even touches those anymore."

"Yeah? Then why is there a ladder underneath one of the stacks on row closest to the center?"

She froze. "What?"

"The drawer is ajar, too. It looks like someone was looking for something in there; I can see some sheets of paper on the floor underneath the shelf."

Franky followed her to the stacks, forgetting all about her orders to "stay put where I can keep an eye on you", and he was there to catch her when the drawer fell out of its casing with a single tug and sent them both tumbling to the ground. When they took a closer look at the shelving, they could see that it had been broken into and forced back into place carelessly.

"Who would have reason to do this?" Ghea wondered, examining the twisted edges of the sliding rails.

"My guess is as good as yours, though it probably has something to do with this." Franky held up the tattered remains of Sanji's medical profile. "Bastard got here first and left us the scraps, Ghea. There's nothing here."

It had all been a fruitless search; they had no leads on how the active virus had gotten into Cook-bro's injection or why anyone would want to do that in the first place, and now he was no closer to saving him or Longnose. Sighing softly, he leaned back against the records stacks and glared at the file in his hands; Sanji's name stood stark and black against the pale blue folder, reminding him of how close they had been.

The doctor began to leaf the rest of the folders that had been left in the drawer, and her frown deepened. "Franky…your friend wouldn't happen to be from North Blue, would he?"

Franky looked down at the files in her hand.  _Trodt, Sarkies, Loring, Bellamy, Astraz_ …all of them had the formal name for North Blue printed neatly under the subheading  _place of birth_ , followed by a bunch of foreign names that he wasn't certain were even pronounceable (one of them just alternated between the letters l, w, y and g for about fourteen characters). "He's mentioned it before, but I don't see wh-"

"You should get to him quickly; he may not have much time left." She showed him the huge red 'X' spread out across one of the records. "All of these files are for pirates of North Blue origin, they all received the injection, and they were all deceased within four days of getting inoculated."

The time stamp on each of the opened files glared at them malevolently, every one of them like a countdown to the cook's impending demise. Only Sanji's file was blank, emptied of all of its contents.

"Ghea," he croaked, letting the papers scatter in front of him, "today's the fourth day."

* * *

It was late morning when they finally forced their way out of the half-collapsed building, and thanks to Ghea's manipulation of the earth, they made it past the sentries at the principal exits undetected. The woods lay before them, still and foreboding, but it couldn't compare to the absolute fear that clenched at his chest whenever he thought of the cook, lost somewhere out there alone and dying.  _We have to find him; he has to live. He_ has _to._

When they were only a few meters from the first grove of wild trees, the attack came and halted them immediately, and both doctor and shipwright whirled around to find themselves face to face with a row of Border guard soldiers.

"Shit, what the hell do you want?" Franky practically screamed in frustration. They didn't have  _time_  for this. "We didn't do anything; just let us go!"

The squad leader gazed back at him calmly. "No civilians are allowed past the border between the port and the Outer Island; please put your hands over your head and await detainment."

"You're  _arresting_  us? After a ton of pirates got past your so-called guard and ran into the woods after my friend?"

"Do not concern yourself with the charges against the perpetrators from earlier; I can assure you that they have been dealt with."

Usopp…they got him too? Franky thought that his world might as well just end right now; if he lost two of his closest friends and broke his promise to Nami, that would destroy him.  _If this is how it's gonna go, then I'm going down fighting_ , he thought, slowly rearing his Strong Right back as one of the men approached him with a pair of handcuffs.

"Wait!" Ghea stepped between the two men, hands held up in a beseeching manner. "I confess."

"What?" Franky blinked, unsure of what exactly she was planning. Was she really expecting him to give up without a fight? One sharp look from the young woman told him to keep quiet, and he waited to see what she was up to.

"Who are you, girl?" The leader of the Border guard frowned at her, but she drew herself up to her full height and refused to back away.

"My name is Ghea, and I treated that man's wounds in secret. I surrender myself to your custody, sir."

"You're the girl on the transponder who was administering unauthorized medical treatment to this man?" Franky swallowed hard; they had been monitored by one of the Den Den Mushis within the records room. He should have thought about that when he let her treat him.  _No wonder she was shaking so badly._   _She probably knew the entire time._

"Yes," she said seriously, holding her head up with pride and defiance. "I did, without regrets, because I am a doctor of Staithe Wharf and anyone who needs medical attention will always receive it from me."

"You understand the consequences of your actions." The man gave her a bemused look when she nodded furiously, and he motioned for two of his men to restrain her. Franky moved to defend her, but she shook her head slightly and mouthed a single word that stopped him in his tracks.  _Go_.

It was a testament to the bizarre happenings on this island that none of the men moved to stop him when he broke into an all-out run for the woods; they had all surrounded Ghea completely and didn't seem to notice his escape. Once they had their sights set on a supposed perpetrator of their "law", everything else didn't even register, and he wondered if they were something like the Pacifista.

He glanced over his shoulder one last time before ducking into the thick underbrush of the forest, and Ghea smiled brightly back at him.  _Good luck_.

 _When I get back, kiddo, you'd better still be here to keep on fulfilling that dream of yours,_ he thought grimly, shoving aside the low hanging branches of the trees in his path.  _Don't do anything stupid…well, stupider than_ this _._

He paused in the middle of a clearing in the woods, glancing every which way at the seemingly uniform trees. There were no paths, landmarks, or anything that could help him find his way. Now that he had actually reached this place, he realized that he had no idea where to go.  _I wonder if this is what Zoro feels like on a daily basis._

"Where would a crazy demon pirate take an unconscious cook in these woods?" he muttered to himself, furrowing his brow as he wandered deeper into the forest. "And where would you put a hospital in this place?"

A twig snapped underneath his foot, and he froze. What was that strange feeling that had just come over him? Slowly raising his head, Franky looked up into the thick canopy above him just in time to see a feral boy swing down at him from a bright green vine, giving off a barbaric, shrill shriek as he attacked him.

"Holy f-"

The woods tittered as a flock of birds took flight, and then everything was silent.

* * *

"Have you heard of a place called Staithe Wharf?"

The noise and chatter in the pub was at an unbearable level, but somehow he managed to catch that particular question from his seat at the end of the alcohol bar, and his interest was piqued. Gesturing to the bartender for another drink, he settled back on his stool and drained his new mug before answering the blonde's query.

"Why do you ask, stranger?" He ignored the strange looks that his crew gave him and instead focused on the unkempt young man seated in one of the booths on the other end of the room; he looked down at the eye tattoos on his arms in surprise and then glared at him, but the pirate only smiled back placidly.

"Oi, mind your own-" The other pirate paused. "Wait, you've heard of it?"

"It's probable that I may have, though nothing too pleasant." He neglected to mention the rumors about the island being a graveyard for pirates of northern heritage, but perhaps the young man was better off not knowing; he seemed the reckless, trouble-seeking type.

"Have you been there? There's something  _off_  about the whole damn place."

He raised his eyebrows. "Can't say that I have, but I take it you did?"

"Tch, yeah. Got kicked off for 'unruly behavior', whatever that's supposed to mean." The blond-haired pirate grumbled into his drink before downing the rest of it. "…hey, would you ever go?"

"Staithe Wharf?" A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he could stop himself, and now his crew was really looking at him with a weird look. Coolly, he turned in his seat so that his back was to the counter, and the other pirate could see him head on. "It's a crazy, backwater cesspool of trouble." He shook his head. "I don't think so."

Bellamy smirked and raised his tankard at him. "Are you afraid to see how deep the rabbit hole goes? Cowards won't last long in this day and age."

"…I was never much for rabbit hunting." A smile quirked lazily at the corners of his mouth. "Besides, I'm not afraid of the so-called new age. No point in fighting what is already coming, right?"

"Damn right. Hey, bartender; another round for my friend and his crew!"

His unbuttoned shirt fell open, revealing a mark that he had not expected to see so soon again, and his mood soured immediately. Clenching his jaw when Bellamy approached him with a drink, Trafalgar Law smiled serenely and accepted the tankard as if nothing was the matter, but as he raised it to his lips to take a long, slow sip, he thought to himself that he was going to need a lot more alcohol to get through the evening with his sanity intact.

 _Just my luck, he thought miserably,_ and the Jolly Roger on the other man's chest seemed to grin mockingly at him _. I should have gone with Staithe Wharf instead, after all._

* * *

Franky lay flat on his back in the cool, sloshy mud of the forest floor, staring dazedly at the grey-white clouds still hovering over the island, and there was a solid weight on his chest that finally anchored all of his thoughts after the sudden impact had stunned him.

"What the  _hell_ , Longnose?"

The sniper looked down at him fearfully, clutching his slingshot to his chest and giving a slight whimper. "Franky, I thought you were the forest giant."

" _What_?" He struggled to sit up and ended up dumping Usopp onto the ground in an ungraceful heap. "…oi, what the heck happened to you?"

There were large splatters and streaks of red and yellow paint across Usopp's face and bare chest, and his trousers were torn away at the cuffs and sported several extra rips and embellishments that he was certain had not come with the pants when the sniper had purchased them (namely three strings of little acorn chains and a daisy necklace). His hair was wild and mussed, with leaves and cobwebs woven (or rather, entangled) into it with almost careful consideration, and he was missing his shirt entirely.

"Usopp, it's seriously been an hour since we left you out here, and you've already gone native?"

"I needed to protect myself, so of course I had to use camouflage!" Usopp said indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. "The Great and Wild Usopp knows exactly what to do in a survival situation like this, of course! One look at my clever disguise and those guards were cowering before my fearsome presence."

"I'm sure." Franky furrowed his brow and pointed at his dripping 'war paint'. "Did you put ketchup and mustard on your face?"

"The bright colors are supposed to warn my enemies that I'm a deadly prey." His proud smile wobbled, and then Usopp looked away and swiped his cheek with the back of his hand. "Okay, so I overdid it a little…but I was really scared."

Franky wasn't surprised when he ended up on the receiving end of a really tight, terrified embrace. "…Longnose, it's okay; I'm here."

His face was scrunched up, and there were real, honest tears in his eyes. "I was all alone out here, and I was so stupid for thinking I could come out here alone to save Sanji." He swallowed audibly and bit down on his lip. "Those pirates were coming from everywhere, and I got lost after the first row of trees, and I couldn't even think because I was terrified, and Franky, I'm so, so glad you came back."

The shipwright gave him a hard look.

"Usopp, that was a really thoughtless, stupid thing to do." Usopp nodded in understanding, looking just a little crestfallen despite the fact that he knew it was the truth. "But…it was also incredibly super."

The way that the sniper's face just lit up at his words made him smile, and he ruffled his long unruly hair playfully. "Go wash up, longnose; you look like one of Panethal's feral Drifting Boys crossed with a raccoon."

Usopp sniffled loudly and wiped away the streaked condiments across his face. "I'll have you know that I met Green Petero once, and he made me an honorary permanent member of his Drifting Boys. I'm actually next in line to take his place as leader, along with my multitude of followers and my pair of twin dragons."

"Dragons?" Franky raised a brow. "That's a new one."

"Yeah, that came after my abduction by aliens, you know. Otherwise I would have had my dragons fry them before they could kidnap me."

"Go on." He had to help Usopp comb all the debris and rubbish out of his hair, which brought on a fresh wave of tears and lies, but soon enough the shipwright was heading deeper into the woods, a messy but relatively clean sniper in tow.

Despite his negativity and fearfulness, Usopp had managed to catch Khalashtrogos' trail through the forest, and he had a solid guess as to where the Biles lay. "He was headed northeast along the creek over here, but that quickly leads to the ocean again. I think that he must have gone down that slope over there, based on the broken branches right here. There's a huge drop right beyond the next treeline."

"A hidden valley?" Franky looked over the edge of the cliff. "Not a bad place to hide a hospital. But I'm thinking it won't be easy getting down there."

Usopp rummaged around in his bag quietly, looking around at the trees surrounding them and peering down the steep incline. "…I think I have an idea."

As far as harebrained schemes went, this one only just managed to  _not_  get them killed.


	11. Love you like a nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Sanji's nightmares after Thriller Bark come to fruition, and he learns just what it is like to face the memories that he's been suppressing for a long time while his own demons try to kill him from the inside out.
> 
> Meanwhile, Usopp and Franky meet the friendly neighborhood forest spirit (and learn some startling new things), as the Biles prepares for a very special patient's arrival.

The canopy swayed overhead about three yards away from crushing them, but at the last moment Usopp's newest gadget finally reacted to all of their attempts to trigger it and expanded between the grove of trees at the base of the cliff with an impressive  _bang_.

Usopp stared at the taut, Poly-ssop net holding up several tons of broken branches and three tree trunks of considerable size, speechless and wide-eyed; one of the branches had just narrowly missed the tip of his nose. He let out a tiny croak. "Uageh?"

"Well, your plan  _didn't_  kill us," Franky offered casually, pulling a few twigs out of his hair and checking to make sure that all of his limbs were intact and functional. "I'll give you that."

The sniper dropped the little remote signal clicker and threw his arm over his face with a sigh. "We were supposed to land on top-"

"I know. Kinda missed it by a smidge, didn't we?"

The net gave a lurch and the pair froze, looking fearfully up at the bundle of smashed timber that was suddenly a whole yard closer, and then they heard the ropes snap. Usopp screamed when the entire mass came crashing down towards them like a roll of thunder, booming and explosive. He felt Franky throw himself over him to take the brunt of the impact, but just as quickly there was another force slamming into them, dragging them out brusquely from underneath the falling net and to the relative safety of the cliffside.

They hit the rocks with a grunt, momentarily winded and confused; in the deafening crash they didn't hear the approaching footsteps until he was towering over them, a giant, hulking shadow standing against the pale light that managed to penetrate the storm clouds and thick forest canopy.

Usopp saw him first, unfortunately.

"It's the forest giant," he said breathlessly, looking up at the enormous, fur-covered creature looming above them; the beast's pale eyes blinked dully at them as it crooked its huge, boulder-like head in their direction. Two large horns protruded from the sides of its temple and branched out like trees, even growing leaves and moss that draped down to cover its thick, brown-ish gray body like a coat. It was easily twice the size of Chopper's Monster Point, and just as eerie and unnatural. Or rather, it was  _too_  natural, looking like it had just sprung up from the earth itself, sculpted from bedrock and flora and  _magic_ , because that was the only way he could explain the creature standing before him like a golem.

He thought that he was going to die from shock.

"…I take it back; you've killed us, Longnose." The sniper didn't respond to Franky's weak, joking accusation, and then he felt one of the shipwright's strong arms reach around him and pull him close to his chest, while the other came up and opened up to reveal his left-hand cannon, aimed straight at the beast's torso. He took a slow, cautious step back, then another, edging closer to the cover of the forest and away from the clearing at the base of the cliff.

"Usopp," Franky muttered low and faint into his ear. "I'm going to fire a Coup de Vent at the thing, and as soon as that happens you're going to run as fast as you can into the woods, got it?"

He didn't know if he managed to nod, but it turned out to be completely unnecessary, as the beast simply gave a soft, clicking croak and turned away from them, seemingly uninterested in attacking them. When it started ambling away into the forest, Franky let out a shaky breath and relaxed his grip on Usopp's arm in relief, and for some reason, the sniper took that as his cue to take a few steps after the thing.

"Usopp, what do you think you're doing?" Franky grabbed his arm again and yanked him back, fear written all over his face. He was looking at the sniper as though he had gone mad, which might have been true, considering what he just heard from the beast. "That thing-"

"He wants us to follow him." Usopp shrugged off his limp grasp and turned to face the beast head on, which suddenly thrust its vacant stare into Usopp's face. He recoiled instinctively, but the creature shook its head and crooned gently as though to soothe him.

_Do not be frightened, child. I will not harm you…or your infidel friend over there._

The voice was ancient and ethereal, echoing from everywhere at once and yet coming solely from the giant's mouth; somehow, he felt his fears ebb away despite the creature's monstrous appearance. "I'm not…he's saying we shouldn't be scared."

Franky cringed, looking concerned and skeptical at the same time. "You can hear it  _talk_?"

_Daruba, if you were not so obstinately turning a deaf ear to me, you would be able to hear as well._

" _I_  can hear it? Have we gone insane?"

Usopp ignored his panicking friend and looked up at the giant in wonderment; the creature's eyes no longer looked so empty and emotionless, but held a thoughtful, kind light in their frost-white depths. "What are you? And where do you want us to follow you to?"

 _I am the beast you have heard of as 'the Forest Giant', although my children call me Anwhe. I am the forest, the mountain, the land itself, and I protect and guide all those who wander these paths._ The giant's maw of a mouth curved into a smile.  _As for where you will follow me to, well, that depends on your intended destination, does it not?_

"You can take us to the Biles?" Usopp asked eagerly, hoping that they could still reach Sanji in time to save him. He didn't know what they could do for him once they actually caught up, but right now the only thing they could think of was to reach him. "How far is it? Can we make it there in a couple of hours?"

The Forest Giant chuckled and stretched his neck towards the shadowed woods; with a blink of his eyes the forest lit up with a faint glow, narrowing down into a brilliant winding path through the trees. It cut straight through what appeared to be the solid stone face of the island's mountain, and on the other side they could hear the rushing roar of a river, which was illuminated by the continuing lights of the path.

"A tunnel through the mountain?" If the giant hadn't pointed it out to them, they might have missed it and spent hours meandering around the mountain instead, wasting time that they did not have. "And that'll get us to the Biles…?"

_Yes, to the Biles, and to Sanji._

"How did you-?" Franky frowned and hovered protectively over Usopp when the beast drew closer still to the sniper. "Wait, how can we even know whether you're telling us the truth? You could just be luring us into a trap."

 _How do I know your friend's name?_  Anwhe finished for him, settling back on his haunches and looking more animal-like as he did so, though the discerning glow in his eyes remained.  _I felt him pass by earlier, with a dark-hearted foreigner and his pack of men; As for whether the path will lead you to the right place, you do not have to take my word for it. Just look at the trail they blazed through my forest._

Usopp looked down the path of golden light that drove through the mountain; all along the trail was row upon row of felled trees. "Oh, wow…that's really cruel. Is the forest gonna be okay?"

_The forests of Jutonståithe have survived much worse, child. It is alright._

"Juton…ståithe?"

_Yes. This island was given its original name by my children when they first fled their home in the north; they brought me here with their belief and stories, although with their annihilation over two centuries ago, I fell into a sleep that I had believed to be eternal._

"What? What happened to them?" Usopp settled down next to the Forest Giant, to Franky's anxious consternation and irritation; he knew that the shipwright was just trying to keep him safe, but there was really nothing to fear from Anwhe. "How did you wake up?"

 _In recent years, the current inhabitants of the island opened up the harbor again, and it seems that some seamen are more inclined to believe in the old stories than I had thought possible._  Usopp closed his eyes when Anwhe reached his hand out to touch his face; it was cool and smooth, like a well worn stone, and he stifled a chuckle when the beast patted his head gently, tickling his nose with one of his leafy branches.  _You in particular have given me a strong bloom of energy, though you do not have the northern essence of my former children. You have a powerful belief in the arcane, weaver of tales._

"Wh-who, me?" Usopp grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head with a laugh. "I'm just a compulsive liar, to be honest."

_Do not underestimate the power that a storyteller has, young one. It was enough to draw me out here to help you, and it may be enough to help you friend._

"You said earlier that you saw Sanji?" Franky was looking impatiently at the path leading towards the river; his arms folded over his chest as he tried to stay calm. "How are we supposed to be able to help him, old man? And is he even…?"

_He is alive; I can still sense his energy, even from here. Poor child…though he does not know it, he still has a trace of his ancestors' essence in his core, and it was crying out for help. There is a blight in his belly, much like the one that wiped out my own children. It seems that those who destroyed them have started their dirty work once again._

"But will he live?" The shipwright swallowed hard, looking pale and nauseated. Usopp glanced up at him in worry; was there something else about the disease that Franky hadn't told him?

Anwhe's eyes were patient and solemn, and he wrapped a comforting arm around him, leafy and gentle.

_On this island, there is but one place where he could survive that plague; he has just arrived there. Right now, he is in the best hands possible, and I do not doubt that they will ensure that he lives. But he will still need you to leave Jutonståithe alive. Do you understand?_

"Yeah, I think I do," Usopp nodded slowly, turning to look at Franky. "We can trust him, Franky. I promise."

It took him a few minutes to answer; he could see Franky's indecision still hinged on his distrust of the Forest Giant, but finally he gave an affirmative nod. "Alright, but it's not  _him_  I trust."

He hauled Usopp up to his feet and frowned at the giant defensively. "It's you, Usopp."

The sniper chuckled bashfully and scratched the back of his head, ducking down to hide his blush. "Wow, you guys; I've never gotten so many compliments before. Stop it!"

("But please don't actually stop.")

Anwhe laughed and drew himself up, but he remained on all fours as he led them down the path of lights into the forest. Usopp stayed close to him and soon fell into an easy conversation with him, eyes bright and wide with awe at the forest spirit's stories about the original Staithe Wharf; when it came to be his turn to share the sniper waved his arms around expressively as he talked about his journey from his home in East Blue. Franky trailed behind the pair, listening and watching warily for any sign that this beast would actually keep his word. He didn't know why he couldn't bring himself to trust the giant, but when Anwhe pulled him aside to speak to him privately, he found out exactly what bothered him about the Forest Giant.

The spirit (Which shouldn't even be able to exist, damnit! Ghosts were one thing, but a personification of an entire island was asking for a lot) seemed to be scrutinizing him, and he fidgeted uncomfortably under the creature's gaze. "What did you want to talk to me about? And why do you keep calling me 'daruba'?"

 _…you_ are _a technologically modified organism, are you not?_

Franky furrowed his brow. "You mean a cyborg? Yeah, I am, and I have been for a while. Is that something you think I should be shamed for?"

Anwhe shook his head, a frown of disapproval on his face.  _I do not think that, although I cannot say I believe you should be proud of it, either._

He laughed derisively before he could control himself. Oh, he was going to go all 'nature purist' on him, huh? "Look, old man, I'm one of the only fully cybernetic organisms in the world who still retains sentience and free will. If that isn't something to be proud of, then I don't know what is."

_You would not return to a fully human state, were the opportunity to arise?_

Franky froze in midstep, slowly turning around to fix a dubious frown at the Forest Giant. "…what, are you suggesting that you can do that?"

_It would take some time and energy, but it is possible, even after the damage from so many years of-_

"What makes you think I would even be interested in that? Maybe I like being 'BF-36', as crazy as that might sound. The damage is only temporary and bearable, and if it means that I can be allowed to fight alongside my friends, then I think it's worth it."

_Daruba, listen closely. You will soon discover that there can be no real union between man and machine, and though you may try to ignore the signs, it is obvious that your body is trying to warn you: this will not last._

Anwhe extended his giant hand and looked at him imploringly.  _If you wish, I can show you what I mean._

Maybe it was the nagging feeling at the back of his head, an annoying curiosity to satisfy, but he agreed, if only to get him off his back. Then the giant placed his palm flat against his forehead, and he lost awareness of everything but the feeling of his own body suspended in a vast vacuum of darkness. And then it began.

Screaming, tearing, burning, all the way to his core; tissue and metal in conjunction with each other and yet it was all wrong, something deep inside of him that couldn't be fixed with tools and cleverness and blueprints. His cells were corroding under the stress, and this couldn't possibly be real, but that was all he was aware of for a long time. It drove him to his knees, and though he couldn't hear himself speak he later learned that he was begging ( _begging_ , of all things) for Anwhe to stop.

He stared down at his shaking hands, blinking the bleariness from his eyes and desperately trying to regain his composure before Usopp could notice that anything was wrong.

_Do you understand now? Your own body will devour itself in an attempt to remove what it perceives to be an invasion of its defenses. Right now you can keep ignoring it without too much discomfort, but the pain will be very real when your autoimmunity reaches a level that it cannot distinguish between itself and real antigens; at the rate that you have modified yourself, I cannot promise that it will be very long._

"Franky?"

He raised his head up weakly to see Usopp heading back down the path towards them; when he saw the shipwright kneeling on the forest floor, pale-faced and sweating, he broke into a sprint. "Oi, are you okay? What happened?"

"…ah, it's nothing, Longnose. I'm just taking a break over here, that's all."

The Forest Giant looked at him questioningly, but he pasted a smile on his face and stood up, casually stretching his arms over his head with an exaggerated yawn.

"Are you sure? You're looking a little shaky."

"Huh? Must be low on cola or something. Come on; maybe they have some at that hospital." Without waiting for a reply, he strode confidently past the two, calling over his shoulder that they would have plenty of time to gawk at him later when they found the Biles.

Usopp frowned. "You jerk, making me worry over nothing! You were slacking off, weren't you?"

"Tch, I've been up since the crack of forever fixing the ships up and then chasing you through this forest. Don't judge me."

Anwhe said nothing as they continued down towards the river, and Franky gave him a grateful look for keeping his silence even when he had to pause briefly for another breather. It wasn't the pain (that was gone as suddenly as it had come), but the underlying fear behind what he had just been made to experience hounded him. Would it actually come to that, his body deteriorating as it tried to protect him from himself? How long would he have before that happened?

He thought about the Sunny and his crew, and everything that they had been through together. Joining them was the first best decision that he had made of his own accord, even if he did have to be coerced (but only a little), and for each time that he had to repair the outer damage to his body, he always felt a sort of relief that he had managed to help protect the people he cared about in his own way. Besides, when had he ever let his own limitations stop him before?

"I made my decision," he muttered as they reached the end of the river; it was as far as Anwhe would take them, as he could not walk for long outside of his own realm. The Forest Giant looked at him knowingly, already perceiving what he had chosen.

_I wish you luck, then, and I hope that my prediction does not come true._

"Heh, thanks, but I've got a good crew to keep pushing me onward. If it means just one more moment that I get to fight alongside them, then I'll take the risk."

_That is quite a resolve you have. I find it very admirable that you would give everything for your friends. Only once have I met someone with that kind of conviction._

Franky smiled and looked over at Usopp, who was gauging the distance that they would need to cover to cross the river. The sniper grinned back and flashed him a thumbs up, pointing at the improvised slingshot that looked more liable to get them killed than anything else. "It's more of a stubbornness, actually."

_…she said the same thing, too._

* * *

_Zoro voices his disbelief behind him, Kuma stares down at him impassively, and even his legs cannot seem to decide whether they want to keep holding him up, but Sanji is resolute in a way that he hasn't been since he stood between the Don's army and his precious restaurant on the sea. It is a determination born of fear of loss and selfishness, and he doesn't care how shameful it is as long as he can make sure that none of his crewmates die today._

_The Shichibukai gives him a short nod and reaches for Luffy, causing his breath to catch in his chest as he fears the man has changed his mind, but then the damage begins to come out of his captain's limp body and forms a large, glowing ball in Kuma's hand. Sanji swallows down bile and wonders just how they could have let him take on so much damage in the first place. The swordsman growls and struggles to force his body to move, but he has already reached his limit. Sanji, however, can still keep going for the two of them._

_"Have a little taste, first." Kuma extends his paw over the sphere, sending a wave washing over his body while Zoro is left by to helplessly watch him do this to himself. I'm sorry, Zoro, he thinks numbly, listening to his comrade's desperate efforts over the broken ground (oh, so that's what they had come to be, huh? It's funny how he can only admit it now, when he's moments away from death)._

_Before he can ask to take it somewhere else, or to have the swordsman removed from the site, it strikes him like nothing he has ever felt before._

_He does not even manage to scream; in fact, he does not even manage to do anything when the pain erupts in his body. If he blacks out, it would only make too much sense, as he finds himself on the stone floor, gasping weakly for breath and with no knowledge of where he is._

_Sanji raises his head with a gargantuan effort, hoping that the next one kills him, because he does not see himself lasting long enough to take it all in. All of it, the Shichibukai said, and yet just a little piece has him on the brink of death already._

_"I knew that you were too weak, Cook."_

_His eyes snap open, and he is staring at a scene that has played the main event in all of his most recent nightmares, putting all of his efforts to waste right before him._

_"…Z-Zoro?"_

_The swordsman is on his feet, standing proud and immovable like a mountain with his arms folded over his chest and his mouth set in a grim, stark frown. There is no light in his eyes, and blood runs in rivers down his face and over every inch of him, dark and red on Zoro's white shirt and whiter, clenched knuckles. His swords lie abandoned on the ruins, and Wado Ichimonji's white handle catches his eye in particular, reminding him of broken dinnerware tossed into the sea (or is it the other way around?)._

_Zoro's lips move wordlessly, and then blood spouts from his mouth, dribbling down his chin to join the rest of it on his torso. It spreads quickly, to Sanji's horror, spilling over the ground in a wide radius. There is no way that one person alone can even_ have _this amount of blood, let alone lose this much, but it's really there. It's really happening all over again._

_Sanji pushes himself up with a cry. "Zoro!"_

_The second wave smashes him against the ground, and this time it rips a scream from his throat. He curls up on himself, choking on the words that he has to say before it's too late._

_"N-no…Kuma, this…this i-isn't…what we a-a-agreed…"_

_There is blood on his hands, and he has to blink a couple of times before he notices that it is not his; the blood pooling underneath him is_ not his _. "Stop! Please, don't do this to him, Kuma! I said I would do it!"_

_"The poor little prince actually thinks this is his choice." Sanji glances up, tremulous and sick to his stomach, at the sound of Zoro's deep, hate-filled tone. There is malice on his bloodied mask of a face, and he gives Sanji a shark-hungry grin before he speaks again._

_"You thought that you could match my sacrifice and save us all, didn't you? Like your life was worth my own in weight and meaning, like you could actually find the strength to see this through. But just look at you now…pathetic, weak, hateful."_

_This is not Zoro. He can't be saying these things; it's not possible. "I just wanted to protect you!"_

_There is more pain; Kuma isn't holding back anymore, and he lets the ball of pain hover low over Sanji's body before he turns to leave, as stoic and somber as before. The glowing red light from the sphere illuminates his face as it descends on him without mercy._

_"Protect me? Is that what you call this?" Zoro gives a short bark of a laugh. "You can't even stand up anymore; how are you supposed to save me from this?"_

_Sanji's eyes flood with tears, and they spill down his cheeks as Zoro bleeds to death before him; the reddish light begins to fill his vision with the promise of pain, but all he can see is Zoro falling under the weight of Sanji's own failures._

_If this is how Zoro ends, then he knows where he wants to be. He manages to prop himself up, reaching out pleadingly in one last attempt._

_"J-just…please…if I could stand w-with…you…a-at your side-"_

_Zoro's voice is like a dagger through his chest. "I don't want you at my side. You don't belong there."_

_The ball of pain finally engulfs him completely; it bears down on him like the entire weight of the world was suddenly dropped over his shoulders. He screams and screams and screams as his body receives one punishing blow after another, and the amount of damage he is taking on cannot be physically possible, but he is still alive to bear more after he thinks that he cannot handle anything else. (But he does, and he will)._

_Somewhere in the space between his suffering and the safe, comfortable place that his mind has retreated to, Zoro's cries manage to reach his ears before they are cut short._

_"Oh, are you still able to move?" Kuma watches with detached interest from the edges of the desolated courtyard, but he makes no motion to do anything._

_Zoro has fallen silent and still, though his screams still echo in Sanji's wretched mind as he drags himself across the rubble towards the swordsman's lifeless body._

_It is the most arduous, thankless task of his life._

_"Z-Zoro…Zoro…" He is sobbing like a child and he can't even recognize his own voice anymore; the only thing he can hold onto is the mantra of Zoro's name on his lips and the taste of his blood in his mouth. His arms give out on him halfway there, and he can't catch his breath between all the surges of pain wracking his body brutally. "P-please…please, save him…"_

_Save him...save him…oh God, save him, please._

_And then, all he knows is pain._

* * *

Khalashtrogos was actually a dignified, stately man when the facial paint and tattered sea clothes came off. Then again, a man didn't come to rule over half of the Red Line without knowing how to present himself for the numerous negotiations of the treaties that held a great deal of his ruling power, and he looked at home among the subtle elegance and décor of the Biles' private offices.

Right now, he was going to need all the diplomacy in the world to be able to placate its current Director.

"He's the spitting image of Duparis!" The Director slammed the bottle of wine in front of him, turning around to find the spare wine flutes that her assistant should have already brought up for them. "How do you expect me to even look at him, let alone have him here in my hospital?"

" _You_ don't actually have to treat him," Khalashtrogos reasoned-oh, he was reasoning  _now_ , after scaring her staff half to death when he burst in with a comatose boy over his shoulder and his usual fearsome scowl, dripping blood all over the newly polished floors. She shot him a filthy glare. "Have your best doctors handle the bulk of the work, just make sure he's well enough to be on his way afterwards."

"You make it sound so easy," she muttered, pouring the wine out with a graceful hand before she sank down in the chair opposite him, burying her hand into her hair wearily. "I can't even concentrate right now, just knowing that he's down there in the wards and remembering the last time I saw-"

She drew in a shaky breath, almost calm but for the way that her mouth trembled and how her eyes shone a little too bright. "Why do they look so alike? Why does it still hurt?"

Khalashtrogos' eyes lost their hard edge when he looked at her melancholic expression, and he sighed softly. "I did not think about how it would...I didn't mean to cause you such distress."

The Director twirled the wine glass between her fingers delicately. "You said you had a reason for your request."

Although he looked reluctant, Khalashtrogos changed the subject to the virus. "How does his case look?"

She glanced at the new profile on her desk, spread open with the data and results that had just come in from the young man's first exams. "Simply awful. They've been modifying the vaccine, even after I pulled their authorization to use it, and the current mutation running through that boy's system should have killed him about seven hours ago."

"Yet he's still pushing onward."

"As to how long that will be is anyone's guess," she said briskly, flipping through the charts briefly while Khalashtrogos poured himself another glass. "We'll see how he's doing after the first flush. If HQ manages to kill one more innocent on my watch, I will march right up to Geone myself and give them all a piece of my mind."

He was smiling in amusement and nodding along, probably already imagining her storming the Capital in her fine dress and heels. "They moved their base again?"

"Mm-hm, they're in the Old City now; I suppose they wanted to be closer to the history of the island so that they could finish destroying it."

"It's not like anyone on the island even cares anymore. Looks like the government will finally succeed in taking another part of the world history out of existence." Khalashtrogos looked a little bitter when he spoke; his people's own history had been wiped clean during the Void Century, and their culture was still suffering the consequences. She supposed that was why he wore his feral, violent customs like a mask nowadays, though the bloodshed was sometimes excessive (he always grinned and said that it was a gesture of defiance to the world leaders who tried so hard to snuff out his tribes' unique and colorful way of life).

The Director sighed and stared out the window at the weak light from the storm breaking on the horizon. "I'm tired of fighting back, Khalashtrogos. They can have it all, for all that I care."

He looked as though he was about to open his mouth to argue, but the sudden commotion from the Gorgot floor interrupted their conversation. They glanced at each other fleetingly before heading out into the corridor, where they found themselves immediately assailed by a barrage of panicked, barely coherent reports. There was only one message that  _did_  matter.

"H-he's awake, Director!"


	12. Breaking it down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Director has her hands full with a Monster-powered patient who has no idea where he is or what the people in white coats are even trying to do to him, while Khalashtrogos and his right hand man talk troubled pasts.
> 
> Back on the barrier island, the runaway pirates take a little peek into the everyday life of the Gentleman's crew.

Gorgot had been emptied out roughly twenty-three years, nine months, four days, thirteen hours, and fifty-one seconds ago, when the last case of the official J1-SK6 virus was transported into Etebiuelles Olchs (which had lost its original name with the passage of time and had come to be known solely as the Biles) and the Director had staked her claim on any and all research involving the unusual and terrifying disease. The constant flow of infected patients ceased soon afterwards, and for some time she had believed that they had finally ended their relentless search among the unsuspecting North Blue travelers who passed through the port. Then, only months after the Gentleman Pirate's disappearance, the victims began to turn up at her hospital again; some of them weren't even alive at that point either. Furious, she had demanded that they hand over whatever surplus they had kept from her, only to be defeated by a mere technicality (considering the newfound permutations running through their strain, it wasn't even close to being considered the same virus).

She had walked away empty-handed and demoralized, but Duparis' return inspired a new, burning conviction that she could continue fighting, not only for her friend's sacrifice and struggle to defeat the original strain of the virus, but also for all of the innocent victims who had fallen to the "Staithe Eater" before she could reach them. Even after the Gentleman Pirate vanished from history for good, the Director held on to the thought that as long as there was someone out there who needed a cure, then she would fulfill her promise to Duparis and keep coming up with new counteractants to the Capitol's rapidly evolving virus.

The day that a little northern girl died on one of the Gorgot beds, only three years after the Director herself had helped deliver her, was the day she hung up her mantle as a doctor and closed the research wing of the hospital permanently. Not a single Staithe Eater victim passed through the main gates again.

"I wasn't lying; all of our research into the virus has been discontinued," she said over her shoulder as they headed down into the Gorgot wing two floors down from her offices. "Your little friend over here might not survive, and I can't say I'm feeling inclined to even try."

Khalashtrogos raised his brow, following her through the iron-plated doors of the research wing and past the empty offshoot corridors leading to countless rooms that had once housed the Staithe Eater victims. The heavy double-doors hadn't been unlocked in years, guarding only the memories of everyone who had passed through them. Sighing, he waited for her to unlock the main doors and let him into the research lab, where several of her main staff were probably already waiting for their arrival. "I thought he had touched a soft spot in you, Director."

"Tch, it's going to take a lot more than a lookalike to get me to restart a hopeless project, Khalashtrogos." Her mouth was set in determination, and he remembered once again that this was the woman who had single-handedly stood her ground against a biological war against the Capitol. Perhaps she was right and his endeavor had been pointless from the start. Still, he wanted to wait out her first impressions until she got a good look at him.  _We'll see, Director._

They found the floor in complete chaos. The nurses were cowering by the main station at the entrance, too frightened to enter the inner wing where there was a huge clamor and din erupting from one of the surgery rooms. Khalashtrogos pulled her away just in time to avoid getting hit by one of the doctors after he was sent flying from the room. The Director glared down at the man as he sat up with a groan of pain.

"He broke the gurney straps!"

Only moments later, his colleague joined him at the foot of the wall, leaving a sizable dent in the wall as well. "H-he broke the gurney…"

"Why the hell is he still in a  _gurney_ , you fools?" The Director stomped past them and into the room, where the hospital's newest patient was kicking up a veritable storm, and quite literally, at that. He howled as the staff tried to restrain him, somehow fighting back with enough strength to throw another two of her doctors into the nearest wall, an impressive feat on its own considering the state he had arrived in. His reliance on his legs to defend himself was also unusual, but that wasn't what caught her attention, though.

She had never dreamed that she would ever see those curly eyebrows again.

The Director shoved past the doctors surrounding the bed and looked down at her patient (so he  _was_  going to be hers, after all) with a critical eye. He was still ranting and screaming, struggling against his new bonds with every bit of energy left in his body, but she could tell that he was quickly tiring. In his condition, that certainly wasn't surprising; he had arrived in such a bad state that they had to examine him and find out what was  _right_  with him (apparently, there wasn't much to add to the chart after that).

He managed to keep yelling around the double-sided bite props forcing his mouth open, speaking not in the common language but a northern dialect that she recognized as Duparis' own mother tongue. His eyes were wide with fear and pain as he glared at her, saliva and tears dripping down his chin as he spoke. Though she didn't understand a word he was saying, the message was clear as day to her.

"He's scared out of his wits," the Director noted, taking a closer look at the monitoring systems by his bed but wary of keeping her distance, as much as she wanted to do otherwise. "Who forced that thing into his mouth?"

"The patient kept resisting attempts to put him under; we were afraid he would bite his own tongue out before we could get the tube inserted properly. After the flush, he went from bad to worse and we had to make the decision to operate immediately." The head of her surgical staff pulled up the newest charts so that she could look at their findings. "He's not going to last long with those organs, ma'am."

The Director glanced over the papers and took note of how far the damage had spread; she wasn't surprised to see that he had been in shock just hours ago. What mystified her was how he was even up again with most of his systems shutting themselves down because of the disease. "I want him calm before we do anything else; we're not going to fight him on this, especially not when there's a hundred other things to take into consideration before anyone even raises a scalpel to that boy's body."

She left him to the surgeons for a minute, stepping outside to speak with Khalashtrogos on a subject that had been nagging at her for a while.

"How familiar are you with him? Do you think you can help us quiet him down long enough to run the anesthesia?"

The man gave it some consideration, listening to her patient's screams coming from the room. "I've barely spoken two words to him, but Balkos seemed to get along with him well enough, and he knows the boy's tongue, too."

"Good enough. Let's bring him in."

Balkos stood in the center of the room, waiting silently for the doctors to clear the room, though they did so reluctantly. Khalashtrogos remained outside, though the Director noticed him whisper something into his right-hand man's ear furtively. Before she could ask, the men had moved away, and she was left alone in the room with Balkos and her patient.

It was several minutes before he spoke, switching to the young man's vernacular in a quiet, steady voice, and his eyes lit up in recognition upon seeing Balkos. The patient's glare softened and he seemed to be begging something of them, arms trembling as he tried to pull them out of the restraints. Whatever Balkos had said, it definitely hadn't soothed him. The Director bit her lip and wished that she could understand what they were saying. His heartbeat was racing again, and she didn't like the idea that she wouldn't be able to step in to calm him down with words.

Suddenly, his pulse went chillingly steady, and he was staring straight into Balkos' eyes with the bright, feverish intensity that Duparis had often displayed as well.  _"Ir-muen. Ir-vouz-muen."_

His expression closed off when Balkos ignored the tremor in his voice and continued talking, eventually moving close enough to grab his hand and press something into it; when he turned around to leave, the Director caught a glimpse of some stark black material tangled around the patient's right hand. The fact that it had been enough to completely deaden the young man's agitation worried her because it wasn't that he had calmed down, but that the light had been taken out of his eyes in an instant.

"What did you say to him?" She cut Balkos off at the door and grabbed his arm before he could rejoin Khalashtrogos in the corridor.

He glanced down at her coolly. "I did what you and my captain asked. He's calm enough for your doctors to handle, isn't he?"

With that, he walked away, leaving her grasping at thin air and wondering what the hell he had just done to her patient. It wasn't until one of her doctors reminded her that they were losing the time window in order to prep him for surgery that she forced herself to set aside her worries and questions for later. "Get prepped, everyone; it looks to be a long night."

* * *

Sanji let the doctors swarm his bed, poking and prodding him with all manner of invasive equipment and procedures that he just couldn't muster up the energy to care about. It didn't matter whether or not they could save him, not that he even knew what they were trying to cure him of. The pain in his body was becoming a near inferno of pure agony, but it was nothing compared to what his mind was going through.

The pale-haired doctor frowned at one of the monitors set up near the top of the bed. "The anesthesia is as high as anyone can safely tolerate; why is he not responding?"

He looked briefly at the oxygen mask fixed firmly over the lower half of his face, scoffing at the idea that a little gas could do anything for him at this point. Maybe he had no idea what was going on, but his body was still his to understand; he felt the relentless pulse of the virus attacking him from the inside, leaving him without a single moment of rest, both physical and mental.

"Cut the line; the amount of anesthesia needed to knock him out would stop his heart anyway." She turned a hesitant, regretful look on him, reaching over to adjust the mask on his face. "Whether you can survive the pain is debatable, but either way you're about to experience hell."

He could have laughed. What hell could compare to the news he had just received from Balkos? The man's words were still echoing in his mind, mocking and grating with the coolness he had spoken them in.

_Your crew is dead, Sanji._

He slowly, tiredly turned his head and stared down the length of his outstretched arm, fingers still tightly clenched around the cool, smooth material of Zoro's bandana.

_Zoro is dead._

* * *

The hallway outside Surgery 5 was as still as night, like the chaotic storm taking place inside the room was completely isolated from the rest of the world. They couldn't even hear the constant murmur of the doctors conversing with each other as they began their work on the patient, not that it bothered either of them. The entire procedure was clearly visible through the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows wrapping around the operating theater. Khalashtrogos had taken a seat inside the supervision booth, reclining in it like it was his infamous throne back in Ul-Ezeabaqui instead of just a simple swivel chair.

Somehow, he managed to make it look almost regal.

Balkos stood straight backed and rigid by the far wall, trying to be discreet about his peeking glances at the observation window. The man could just barely see Sanji in the middle of the mess of wires and doctors crowded into the limited space; he didn't seem to be able to tear his eyes away from the black cloth that Balkos had salvaged from the smoking wreckage at the Dockmaster's offices. "His crew cannot have actually perished out there, can they?"

His captain laughed dismissively and gave him a shrug of the shoulder. "I do not know, but does that really matter?"

He knew what they were both thinking: had the news of his crew's demise, whether real or not, destroyed his will to live? Balkos didn't know what reason his leader would want to devastate Sanji with that maybe-true, maybe-not statement, but he had never been one to question Khalashtrogos' judgment. Anyone who did usually ended up joining their ancestors in the tomb.

"I have a hunch about that boy; let's see how well he does here, Balkos." Khalashtrogos smirked and leaned back in his chair, fixing his cold, dangerous stare on the blond head turned in his direction. Blue eyes flickered briefly at them before settling back on his first mate's bandana, glazed and dull. Just then, the Director returned to the room, having changed out of her dress into scrubs and more work appropriate shoes; her thick hair had been braided and pulled up into twin buns, revealing something that Balkos would not have expected of the flint-eyed hospital administrator.

Khalashtrogos noticed him staring at the spiraling ink that spilled down from the nape of her neck down towards her shoulders and disappeared under the collar of her shirt. "Do not ask about that; it's a sensitive topic."

"Yes, sir." He averted his gaze immediately, only for the captain to chuckle and tell him to pay attention to her.

"It does not mean I want you to look away; watch her closely when she begins the surgery." Khalashtrogos' brow furrowed as he sat up straight to observe her as well. "You're looking at the God Medic. Even the most difficult cases could be saved by just a touch from her hands, and she never once lost a patient before she stopped receiving the virus victims."

The Director slowly rolled up her sleeves and extended her hand over her patient, letting her power slip over her skin like a glove glowing a soft, gilded color. Balkos felt his jaw go slack when the black-and blue splattered across Sanji's forehead began to recede almost immediately, until the skin there was smooth and unbruised.

"What happened? Why did she stop?" With a power like that, she couldn't possibly have thought to keep it away from the world, wasted by disuse and dormancy. Balkos could think of a thousand different times that they themselves could have used such a doctor on their crew.

Kahalashtrogos noticed the way she was biting her lips and clenching her hands; her grey eyes were glassy with emotion.  _A child happened, one that she reached too late to do anything but hold her as she choked to death on her own vomit. One little girl to crumble the legacy she had built._  "Well, God can't save everyone, Balkos."

* * *

Robin knew that her eyes had lit up at the first mention of the books, and when the Lathos pirates' quartermaster cautiously brought out her precious stash of historical finds and treasures, she practically felt herself shaking with excitement. To those who didn't know her, the archaeologist's cool, collected exterior belied none of the childish joy she felt at getting the chance to uncover another hidden part of the world history. Her crew, however, smiled affectionately and watched her wait for her unexpected gift with hidden anticipation.

"These aren't the most valuable artifacts that you're bound to find out in the four Blues, but considering their contents and the shady history surrounding them, I'd say they're still worth a lot in terms of knowledge."

Hanako opened the chest with a tenderness that revealed her true historian's love for the documents she had collected over her years of travel with the Lathos pirates. She slipped the book out of the thin sleek cloth that it was wrapped, handing it to Robin to look over. The archaeologist carefully brushed her fingers over the finely printed words across the cover. "A navigator's log, and from a long journey, judging by the number of entries within these pages."

Nami leaned in to look over her shoulder, scanning the entries with an experienced eye. "Whoever this navigator was did a thorough job of it, too. What's the first page say, Robin?"

She turned to the first page and stared at the name printed on the inside of the cover, unable to speak for several minutes. "It just says 'Roronoa Quinto'."

The Strawhats looked at the page intently as though waiting for the words on the page to change. They glanced up at Zoro, and then back to the book. "Uh-uh, can't be your father."

"What are you trying to say?" Zoro growled from his seat at the kitchen bar, trying to edge away from Chopper's smothering check-up; the doctor had been insisting on mandatory routine examinations for everyone who had been injured in the escape from Staithe Wharf (which included pretty much the entirety of both crews). "I  _don't_  get lost."

Nami waved her hand dismissively. "You said it yourself, Lost Child."

Before he could return the insult, their captain's weak voice carried over from the lounge. "Guys, let me hear the story," he croaked from underneath the blankets, shuddering as Brook draped another blanket over his shoulders. Though his fever had been steadily climbing over the past few days, he was still insistent on the fact that he felt well enough to sit out in the galley with them. "Robin, tell me about Zoro's dad who doesn't get lost, for some weird reason. What did he say in his book?"

Robin settled down by Luffy's makeshift bed with the others, waiting until Thaddeus and his crew joined them as well before propping the book open once again. "Alright, let's see… _Day One: I have chosen an idiot as my captain_."

Issok raised his brow. "Are we talking about the same Roronoa Quinto who was first mate to Captain Duparis the Gentleman?"

Hanako stared down at the other documents in her lap and in the open chest. "I would suspect that there aren't many Roronoa Quintos running around the Grand Line, no?"

"I suppose there's more to them than what the stories have told you," Robin chuckled, skimming over the entries while Luffy rested his head on her shoulder. "Oh, this is entertaining, indeed.  _Captain dragged us into the Calm Belt again to test our mettle against the terrors of the ocean, meaning that we ended up facing down a sea beast at least eight times the size of our ship. Needless to say, I will not be charting any more courses in that region again_."

Zoro couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his mouth, and everyone glanced over at him curiously. "What? You have to admit it was funny when we sailed right into one of those Calm Belts ourselves."

Nami shuddered, remembering their own accidental excursion into the Calm Belt and sympathized with the poor navigator that had to deal with a captain like theirs. "Why would anyone willingly go into a sea beasts' nest?"

"Because of adventure," Luffy grinned and urged Robin to continue reading. "I think we should go find them and have an adventure together! This guy sounds like a lot of fun."

_"Today Captain was also on bedrest, and I actually got some peace and quiet to work on my maps for once. That is, until he decided that serenading me in front of the crew was an appropriate method of getting us all to go out for the night. I told him that there was no way I would let him walk around on his injured foot, and then the clever bastard roped me into being his footman for the evening. I carried him 'from bar to bar', as he asked, but only after chasing him down the main street because he couldn't wait two seconds for me to pack up my things."_

Brook had read ahead and doubled over laughing, pointing at the next paragraph with tears in his eyes (not that he had any). "Oh, this poor man; it's like the world is playing one joke after the other on him, and I love it!"

_"Captain drank me under the table; I have to start remembering that he can hold his liquor and that I can hold less…a lot less. Think he carried me back, not sure. Will investigate. Update: he did. Am now in the running for worst first mate ever. Duparis laughed his head off and said he wouldn't have wanted anyone else if they weren't half the friend I am. Sometimes Curly can be gracious (when he isn't rushing us headlong into trouble)."_

Nami smiled at their captain and squeezed his shoulder gently. "He sounds like our Luffy, doesn't he?"

"We have to go find them," Luffy nodded, grinning at the book in Robin's hands with a manic gleam. "I bet we could end up with the biggest adventure in the world, besides finding the One Piece!"

Hanako shook her head somberly, flipping slowly through the pages in her hands. "As exciting as that sounds, Luffy, there is actually a rather big problem with that: Captain Duparis' crew hasn't been seen for twenty years. All of the newspaper clippings and bounty posters that I managed to save aren't dated past the beginning of the Pirate Era."

The captain shrugged. "So?"

Chopper looked up from Luffy's bandages and tried to break it to him gently. "Luffy, they might not be around anymore."

"What he means is that they're probably dead." Zoro was surprised at how little emotion he felt when he said it. Only a few hours ago he had learned that his father could have been alive, and now he was more than certain that the man he had never really gotten to know would remain that way, just a faded memory in the back of his mind farther than he could really remember. "There's a lot that could have happened to them: sea beasts, other pirates, the Marines…"

Luffy threw his pillow at the first mate and stood up roughly, whirling around to fix a furious glare at all of them. "No! They have to be out there and I'm going to find them! A crew like that doesn't just lie down and die, Zoro!"

Zoro was taken aback, though he knew he shouldn't have been. This was Luffy they were dealing with, and once he set his mind on something there was no dissuading him, whether or not his goal was actually feasible (and even then their captain had a way of making the impossible happen). He was right, to be honest; from what little they knew of Duparis' crew, they were a hardy, lucky bunch like the Strawhats, and he shouldn't have been so quick to judge them. A quiet grin settled itself on his face. "When Franky and the others get back, we'll begin searching for them, Luffy."

That was enough for their captain, and he sank back onto the lounge, rubbing his wrists gingerly (a habit he had picked up recently) and letting Chopper prod him back under the covers. "That's perfect, except we can't use your directions, okay?"

The swordsman responded by throwing the pillow back at him.

Robin studied the book's cover and bindings, muttering under her breath as she took in the state of the paper and flipped back and forth between pages. "Wherever that crew is now, perhaps this book could provide a clue as to what happened to them. Do you mind if I continue to examine it, Hanako?"

"Not at all; I'd like to join you if I could, actually." Thaddeus' quartermaster smiled and tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear nervously. "It's not often I get to meet a history enthusiast on the sea, what with the government restrictions and all."

Robin and Hanako shared a smile that spoke volumes about the risks that they knew they were taking upon studying and searching for the world's history. They returned to the book upon Luffy's request and continued reading, regaling the crews with the first-person accounts of the Gentleman Pirate's true story while Mikolo started up dinner preparations across the room, and soon the savory smell of their meal began to fill the room. The pirates, though, remained by Luffy's side for a while longer and watched his eyes light up in wonderment at the fantastic tales from Roronoa Quinto's log, and they couldn't help but think that maybe finding the missing pirate crew was actually possible with the Strawhat Pirate at the forefront of the search.

He was the man who would become the Pirate King, after all.

* * *

It was getting so hard to focus on what she was saying to him, and several times the doctor had to pause and call over another of her assistants to adjust God knows what from among all those knobs and buttons and wires in the tangled mess by his bed. He couldn't remember feeling so utterly lost in his life.

Sanji blinked blearily, watching her drift in and out of his darkening vision while she spoke. "…pulse is dropping, I need you to stay with me. Can you do that, boy?"

His mask wasn't working. Shouldn't it have been helping him to breathe? He felt like he was trying to draw air out of the water, and it hurt to even try anymore. Anything below his chest was just one ball of fiery, unimaginable pain, and he was almost certain that someone was taking a live wire to his nerves, veins, anything that was a pathway through his body was screaming at him to just pass out already. And so he did.

The first thing that Sanji noticed was that the pain was still there; the relief he had sought was even further from reach now, because the familiar red glow was back in his vision, and Kuma's voice echoed across the stone courtyard like thunder. He was facedown in the dirt, tasting copper and metal and iron like it was smoke in his mouth; Zoro's blood fanned out underneath him like a growing mesh web across the broken stones and dirt. Each breath he took reminded him of the fact that all of his friends were gone. Sanji felt that he should be thankful that their bodies weren't strewn across the ruins along with Zoro's, but then he remembered that they were probably at the bottom of the ocean right now. He clutched the black bandana tightly in his hand and noticed the way that the blood oozed out of it, dark and rotting, like the blood covering Zoro where he lay lifelessly on the other end of the courtyard, and he closed his eyes against the sight.

He was so tired.

The sound of his footsteps reached his ears in degrees, gradual and unhurried; they echoed in the wide, arching space sharply as they came closer and closer. Sanji opened his eyes and felt a crease between his brows as he tried to accommodate the appearance of this person into his limited world of agony and grief.

He would have recognized the fine, keen tap-tap of those shoes anywhere.

"…Mr…Prince…?"

A warm, sweet chuckle filled the air, and the footsteps stopped for a moment, still on the outskirts of his ball of pain. "…I remember being called the Gentleman more often, but I always did like Mr. Prince better."


	13. Love is a foolish thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji is falling to pieces just when he most desperately needs to remain calm and levelheaded, and the Director is not that far behind him. As Franky and Usopp are forced away from the Biles and discover an enormous island-wide search underway in the forest, Ghea learns exactly who is the target while trapped far from any of the people who could find her information useful.

Mr. Prince's smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever known. Before his crew and Luffy and the Baratie, before everyone he had met and loved in the East Blue, before the thirteen orphanages on the D'Aunique islands in North Blue, everything that Sanji knew and cared for could be summed up in the loving gaze that Mr. Prince wore like eternal sunshine. That was when his whole world (the Gentleman's Pirates and their easy camaraderie, the way that they had made him the center of  _their_  world, his first and most fragile memories) was contained within the countless decks of the ship that had served as his nursery and cradle, and once upon a time Mr. Prince held it all in one perfect smile. He could not understand how he was standing there now, only a few meters away and grinning at him like Sanji was the only thing in the world that mattered, even among the wreckage and death that he had failed to prevent.

 _Thriller Bark…isn't the place for you_ , he wanted to say to the figure standing at the edge of the ball of pain with a curious expression on his face.  _Please, get out of here while you can._

Those blue eyes made his world come to a screeching halt; he thought that this entire damned island would destroy the last bit of peace that he had left.  _I don't want this to become my last memory of you._

Kuma seemed to share his earlier thoughts and he stepped in between Mr. Prince and the fallen pirate, a solemn look in his eyes. "Gentleman, with all due respect, you should not be here."

Mr. Prince glanced up at the Shichibukai with a quiet, steady smile. "Kuma, my dear...with all due respect, _neither should you_."

He then turned his attention to Sanji in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by bubbling, glowing red pain and light. His smile brightened at the sight of him, like he wasn't lying bonelessly among broken slabs of rock and earth splattered with blood that was not his own.

"And I could say the same of you, couldn't I? What on earth have you gotten yourself into?"

Sanji watched in dread as he raised a hand to the sphere and brushed his fingers against it; to his horror, the touch sparked a reaction from the ball of pain that shot through Mr. Prince like lightning. He stumbled back with a silent scream and a white-knuckled hand to his chest, only managing to stay on his feet because Kuma had moved forward to catch him by the shoulders before he fell. The Shichibukai waited until he had caught his breath before he spoke again.

"Have you had your fill, Gentleman?" he asked as the pirate gasped painfully and tried to stop his trembling. They looked to Sanji at the same time, but with completely different expressions on their faces. "This isn't your punishment, but I allowed you to test it on your own, in deference to your wishes. I'd prefer you not torment yourself further with unimaginable, thankless pain; it's not worth it."

With a weak chuckle, Mr. Prince braced himself on Kuma's arm and straightened up, slowly finding the strength to stand on his own. "Try telling that to anyone who's chosen to bear a child."

Kuma said nothing in reply, and Mr. Prince shrugged lightly before directing his next question to Sanji, who looked on warily and in pain. He wanted to scream at him to leave, to not put himself through anything more.  _Not for me. Please, don't try to save me._  Would he have to watch yet another of his loved ones die in front of him? Despair filled his veins and made him reach out pleadingly, hoping to prevent at least one death tonight.

"M-m-m…muh…" He tasted lingering salt and blood on his trembling lips and he felt sweat drip down his face as he stuttered over his childhood name for Mr. Prince. The effort that this simple action required, a few spoken words to the one person who remained intact and alive after everything that he had caused on this island, was enormous. "Mmm…muh…muh-muh-"

"What are you doing in there, Swirly-baby?" Mr. Prince was at the edge of the sphere again, smile tinted by the burning light that radiated from it. "Giving up like this…is that what a prince does?"

Sanji closed his eyes, feeling shame at the pathetic hopelessness of the situation that he had been found in. He remembered the countless hours of trudging through Alabasta's arid desert sands, his ridiculous shows of gallantry to the girls and empty posturing before Crocodile and his Billions, and every one of his useless promises of chivalry and protection crumbling in the face of the Tower of Justice and before the Shichibukai. There was nothing prince-like about his behavior. He wondered if he had ever really learned what being a prince was about.

"I'm…not a p-prince," he muttered, already blinking back tears at the mention of his baby name. That he still even remembered it was a miracle in itself, but hearing it from the mouth of the person who had given it to him was too much to bear. Mr. Prince made a soft noise of disbelief, and Sanji forced himself to choke out some clarification. "I d-don't think I ever was."

"Why do you say that?"

He was still smiling; why couldn't he look at him with hatred and despair like Zoro had done and finish him off already? Sanji grit his teeth against his anger and yelled, "Because I killed my own crew! I brought this whole mess on them because of my own damn morals, and I didn't even have the strength to be there when the entire harbor full of pirates attacked them and sent them out to their deaths in that storm! The Thousand Sunny went down out there after only a month, and she should have been sailed to the end of the world! They just wanted to protect me, and I-"

He choked and bit down on his lip, feeling hot, burning tears well up in his eyes and throat. "…I c-couldn't save…even one of them! M-my…friends…"

A helpless sob escaped his lips as he clenched his eyes shut against the tears streaming down his cheeks; every word he had spoken tore a hole into his heart as he felt the pain of losing them all over again. If Balkos' calm statement had destroyed him, then this, his own admittance, was the ruination of his heart and soul.

_They were everything to me…_

Mr. Prince's smile had diminished with each stammered word, and upon Sanji's first cry, he shoved past Kuma and his warning ("don't do it, Gentleman") and threw himself into the sphere of pain without reserve. Ignoring the furious thrum of the orb around them, he ran over the fragmented ground and towards his one aim, Sanji's fallen body.

Sanji's eyes widened when he felt a solid, warm weight fall over him; Mr. Prince was shielding him from the force of the onslaught upon the pair of them, arms wrapped around him in a tender, familiar embrace and resting his head next to his on the ground. "…why?"

Mr. Prince brushed a few strands of hair from his face with trembling fingers and smiled, "why else?"

_Love is a foolish thing, but it matters._

They were going to drown in pain, surrounded by nothing but torment and destruction as far as the eye could see, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to notice it anymore. Even with the world bathed in blood and darkness, bubbling and hungry around them, Sanji felt his world retreat back to its roots, safe and sound on a rocking deck in the middle of a stormy ocean at the top of the world. Only he and Mr. Prince existed in this place, tangled together in the center of a circle of smiling faces that soon turned into the familiar, long-lost crew of the Gentleman's Pirates.

Mr. Prince slipped his hand into Sanji's grasp and murmured, "let's stay here a while and forget the rest of the world, okay?"

Sanji nodded and smiled through his tears, now flowing more earnestly than ever before. "Okay."

* * *

The Director closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the door, mind heavy with the burden of what had just happened in the room on the other side. It had been too close, and she knew that her surgeons and doctors were still muttering about the way she had nearly broken down when the young man had almost flatlined on the surgery table. They had to haul her away from him before she tore out his wires and tubes from shaking him hysterically.

Khalashtrogos placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking her with an uncharacteristic gentleness that one wouldn't expect from the giant, callous-looking man, but she presumed that her agitated state probably had earned her some sort of kindness from him. He held a glass of clear liquid out to her, which she was severely hoping included alcohol in one of its forms.

"You probably should not be drinking in the middle of a surgery," he admonished but gave her the glass anyway. She responded by throwing the entire drink back without ceremony, wincing as it burned all the way down her throat.

"Does it matter anymore? I think we can all agree that I am officially unfit for the medical field, thank you very much. After that display, I don't think I can ever leave my office again, let alone step back into surgery."

He raised a brow but couldn't keep the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile. "You are too hard on yourself. It is not every day that the son of your-"

_"I didn't ask for this!"_

Khalashtrogos stared hard at her for several minutes, watching her struggle to compose herself as a couple of fresh tears escaped her red-rimmed eyes. Then, with almost measured deliberation, he pressed his lips to her brow and wiped his thumb across her damp cheek. He pulled back stiffly, as though unsure of what to do with himself, which would have been amusing to her if she hadn't just spent the last twenty minutes crying in front of the operating theatre after an emotional breakdown.

"You will be fine," he stated firmly, just as Balkos returned with their weapons and belongings. "This is nothing for you. I will return once I've finished investigating the distress call from my ship, and you will not let him die, alright?"

With that, the pirates headed out of the Gorgot ward past the shellshocked nurses who had no idea how to process everything that had happened since the arrival of their new patient. The Director stared at the nearly empty corridor until the nurses cleared out as well, leaving her alone under the bright lights from the supervision booth.

"Decapitates my guard, flings a half-dead man at my doorstep, abandons me in the middle of a problematic surgery and traumatic flashbacks," she sighed, looking forlornly at her empty glass and wondering where the rest of her alcohol had gone. "Khalashtrogos, the taciturn king; the extent of his affection is an awkward kiss and the coldest comforting words imaginable."

Her hand brushed against her forehead, just over the spot where he had kissed her, and she laughed at herself for feeling lightheaded and giddy even at such a cool gesture of affection. _Love is foolish, Duparis; isn't that what you always said?_ But she didn't feel so lost and scared anymore, and with a smile, she turned back to Surgery Five and pushed the door open just as the hospital received a fresh group of newcomers at the main gates.

No one saw them come in.

* * *

Usopp was  _so_  disappointed.

"Why would anyone build a bridge out here?"

The shipwright shook his head at the ridiculous question and dragged him towards the river, anxious to get to the cook before it was too late. The sun had set about half an hour ago, and all he could think about was seeing a stark red "deceased" stamp being placed on Sanji's medical files like all those other poor bastards from North Blue who were unlucky enough to stop here. There was no time left for Usopp's creative inventions and ego boosts; they had to get to him  _now_. "Gee, Usopp; I dunno. Maybe the same reason someone would build a bridge at any river:  _to cross it_."

Usopp looked hurt at first, but then he noticed the frightened look in his eyes. "Oi, Franky. What's going on?"

"It's nothing." He shook his head, trying to quell his fears before he worked himself up into a frenzy. "Sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like that."

He managed to take four steps before the sniper called out to him: "Sanji's actually dying, isn't he?"

Franky felt like his heart was shattering at the news of Tom's arrest and death all over again. The tremble in Usopp's voice reminded him exactly of Iceburg's voice as he sank into despair and anguish after the Puffing Tom vanished into the horizon, and when he looked back at his bright, tear-filled eyes, all he could see was Kokoro's grief. This wasn't supposed to happen, not  _again_.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, an old habit left over from before the train facedown. "Usopp, I didn't want you to get upset…"

"I think it's a little late for that." Usopp was glaring at him, tapping the end of his slingshot impatiently; his eyes were wide and glassy with emotion, but it wasn't fear and sadness. "Giving up is the last thing on my mind, so tell me what you know so that we're on the same page, okay?"

He must have looked absolutely catatonic because the sniper immediately backtracked and flailed with apologies and nervous laughter. "Hey, if it's that bad it's okay; you don't have to say anything. I-I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're thinking. Hey, Franky, say something!"

"I'm fine, Longnose." He tried to smile (though it probably looked more like a grimace at this point). How was he even going to begin to explain this to Usopp? "I let myself get carried away with what-ifs, that's all."

Usopp leaned against the railing of the bridge, watching him carefully as he joined him at the bridge. "What kind of what-ifs?"

Franky ran a hand over his face and let out a heavy sigh. "Ghea and I…that's the doctor who calmed Chopper down…well, we found Sanji's files in the records room."

"His files?"

"They keep medical records of us…everyone who takes the damn vaccine." He reached into his storage compartment and drew out one of the files that he had "forgotten" to return to the file cabinet. Ghea had told him that it could possibly help in unlocking the virus' cure, and he figured that no one at the harbor would be missing this "Bellamy" guy's profile. He was dead anyway, so they could deal with it. "That Dockmaster wasn't lying about how bad the virus is. None of the victims have survived more than four days after getting infected, and Sanji's about at the end of his limit."

Usopp fished a thin flashlight out of his pocket and squinted at the finely printed words on the papers in the bright glow of the bulb. "Hey, this guy's from North Blue too…should we take that as something important in Sanji's case?"

"That's the thing, they've got this entire section for just those from North Blue, like stacks of them. None of them are alive today."

"…this is a slaughterhouse for them. It's practically genocide." Usopp stared at the paper in indignation. "This is racist!"

"I'm not sure that's the word for it, but North Blue has always had more distinct ethnic groups than any other ocean. Sanji was just unfortunate enough to fall within their parameters." He had long since given up on the idea that the active virus was anything but deliberate. There was no way that coincidence explained how all of the victims were from North Blue; the question now was how they had figured out all of these pirates' place of birth before the fact. They hadn't asked any of the Booster Shot Four where they were from, and yet the cook was the only one who had ended up infected. Just what the hell was going on in this place?

Usopp looked just about done with the island, too. "I knew we should have gone on to Sabaody. What do  _they_  have?"

"Hm, slave trade and kidnapping gangs."

His crewmate shook his head slowly, sinking to the ground in a shaky heap. "Are we ever going to visit an island where bad things don't happen? Is that like an actual thing on the Grand Line?"

"I've heard nice things about Momoiro Island," Franky mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "Girls in frilly things and lots of skipping through fields. Sanji would love it."

"Except he's supposed to die tonight," the sniper said morosely, resting his forehead against his knees and clutching Bellamy's files in his shaking hands. "And we still haven't found any sign of him, those demon pirates, or the hospital that could save his life."

"Your Anwhe said he would live," Franky pointed out, not because he was really inclined to trust anything that the forest giant had said (especially not after that horrifying vision he had given him), but because Usopp needed the comfort. " _I do not doubt that they will make him not be dead_ ; isn't that what he said?"

Usopp couldn't help but snort at Franky's exaggerated impersonation of the spirit guardian. "Shh, what if he can hear you? That's so rude!"

But he was smiling again, so that was a good sign. "What else happened after you came back for me? Start from the beginning; I want the whole story."

Breathing in deeply, Franky glanced out across the river and noticed the huge stony tower hidden among the jagged treeline on the other side. His heart jumped at the sight; that had to be the Biles. "Come on; I'll fill you in while we walk."

They were halfway across the bridge and at the part where he first came across Ghea under the Dockmaster's when the bomb went off. Franky's body shielded them from the brunt of the blow, but the explosion tore up one of the main support beams for the bridge, and it gave way under the rapid current of the river below. In the middle of the sound of crashing, crumbling lumber, he wasn't able to here a second, smaller splash, but he did feel Usopp slip from his arms as he hit the ground.

"Usopp!"

Franky didn't wait for a reply before he dove after him over the edge of the broken bridge; the water was so cold that he felt like someone had stabbed the air out of his lungs with a knife. For a moment, he thought that he would go numb from the freezing drop in temperature and the lack of air, and he wondered if the same had happened to the sniper. He shook himself out of his shock and scanned the water around him quickly before he surfaced for air, coughing and screaming.  _"Usopp! Oi, where are you, Usopp?"_

As he was about to dive back under, something caught his attention on the far end of the river. It was the tiny, high-pitched whine of one of Usopp's tone dials that had broken in the fall, drifting on the choppy currents near the shore. That was how he noticed the sniper clinging to an overhanging branch that had fallen into the river, anchored to the muddy riverbank and the only thing keeping him from being dragged down the river.

Usopp didn't look in his direction, instead lifting his slingshot to aim at the empty darkness around them before firing two shots into the sky, almost losing his grip on the branch in the process. He hissed and loaded up another handful of ammunition, turning his attention in the opposite direction, where the round intercepted the enemy's fire before Franky could even figure out what had happened. Even in the dim twilight he didn't miss a single shot.

Whatever was going on, they needed to get out of the water immediately. He hauled himself out of the water and ran down the riverbank towards the branch; just as the strong undercurrent won its battle with the rotting tree branch, Franky snatched Usopp's arm and pulled him onto the shore, panting and shivering in the cool night air. "…are you okay?"

Usopp's face was twisted up in pain, and he was clutching the arm that Franky had wrenched in the process of getting him to safety. "Y-yeah…we should go; they won't stay down for long."

"Crap, did I-?"

"Don't worry about it," he laughed weakly, staggering to his feet with a groan. "I think I injured it in the fall, not when you pulled me out of the water. Besides, I'd be drowned right now if you hadn't."

A new round of fire opened up to their left, just a few strides away from the river, and Franky scooped him up and took off in the opposite direction, cursing under his breath that they had chosen to attack the pair out here after dark, with little visibility and no idea where they were heading anymore. He had long since lost the trail that Anwhe had given them, and right now the only thing he could do was keep heading away from the enemy hidden in the trees. "Damn, I think they're herding us away from the Biles!"

Usopp gasped as he tried to keep his shoulder from being jostled so much. "No, that's not it…give me a second, Franky."

He heard a few tearing sounds and the noise of a deep inhalation, and then Usopp braced himself against Franky's shoulder and took aim. At first there was only the rustle of the enemy moving through the trees, but when the shot that Usopp had fired erupted in a fiery blaze about thirty meters to the west, all of them seemed to vanish from their trail. They had turned away like they hadn't even been chasing them. "They're...doing sweeps of the woods…like they're searching for something…"

Franky ducked underneath some thick branches and hid behind the trunk of a tree on the riverbank, grateful for a chance to catch his breath and orient himself. The situation seemed familiar… "They were doing that on the docks earlier too. But before we get to that, tell me. What was that just now?"

Usopp grinned gleefully and waved a long, thin straw at him. "I was hoping you'd ask. Four generous pinches of sunpowder and cracklers, wrapped in flammable paper and fired through a straw. I call it 'Great Spitballs of Fire.' This is the first time it hasn't exploded in my face."

 _"Super."_  Franky was definitely going to try that out when they weren't running for their lives in an ancient forest full of weird omniscient spirits and ruthless unknown enemies sweeping through the woods in search of who-knows-what. "I get to do that next time, okay?"

Usopp gave a low groan and reached up for his goggles. "You already have fire-breathing powers; it'll be a piece of cake for you."

"Eh, I'm greedy like that, Longnose. Deal with it and teach me how to use those."

He could almost feel the sniper roll his eyes at him. "Fine, whatever. Keep heading east away from the shot I fired. We'll figure out how to get to the Biles once they've stopped being murderous over in that direction." He began to trek onward through the trees, picking his way among the brambles and thorny vines while Usopp glanced around for any of the guards that might be in the area.

"They're definitely looking for something," the sniper muttered as he adjusted his goggles with his good hand, keeping his slingshot tucked under his arm in case they ended up caught in the crossfire again. "I just saw a trap set off near their position, but they're limiting themselves to certain areas, where Anwhe's trail to the Biles led to. They have a specific target in mind."

Franky frowned back at the flares lighting up the nighttime sky; they were so bright as to completely block out the stormy, clouded twilight overhead. "What could they be after?"

* * *

The men stationed at the new temporary outpost for the Border Guard of Staithe Wharf had no idea how to respond to their newest prisoner's nonviolent protests. They were trained to handle the most vicious and aggressive perpetrators, wild, agitated mobs armed to the teeth, and the entire harbor going up in flames. Whatever the infraction of law, they could easily snub out the resistance and bring in those responsible. They knew how.

Now, a young woman purposefully breaking the law of the island they could have dealt with, if the law had been anything else but this one.

Ghea continued treating her coworker's wounds cheerfully, oblivious to the outright stares from the guards at the door of her current prison "cell", the old offices behind the newer, renovated part of the building (which had unfortunately crumbled under the force of the explosion that had set off the attack on the port).

"Y-you shouldn't be d-doing this, Ghea," her old mentor whispered fearfully, staring at the menacing guards by the door. "You'll only make things worse for yourself."

The young doctor only smiled wider and finished bandaging the gash on the other woman's leg. "It's okay, Teacher; I'm not afraid of them anymore. Besides, I'm a doctor, through and through, and this is the battle I choose to fight."

She turned around with a new medical pack and addressed the rest of her terrified colleagues and peers with excitement. "Who's next?"

"Is she a punk?" one of the men at the door asked, furrowing his brow as she pounced on her next unwilling patient.

While she was setting a broken bone, her sixth real patient that day (her sixth real patient  _ever_ ), there was a disturbance at the door which drew everyone's attention away from the illegal medical practice taking place in the room.

"Ghea, what is this  _nonsense_?"

The Dockmaster was standing on the other side of the iron-gated door, face burning red with anger and horror. Ghea froze up for all of two seconds before she remembered her little rehearsed speech that she had been practicing for the very occasion of the Dockmaster finding out what she had done.

"Hello, Dockmaster," she began lightly, putting the bone back in its place with a quick, deft hand and preparing to set the plaster on her coworker's arm. "I see you've heard about our new medical procedure on Staithe, in which we actually do our jobs, unlike what HQ has had us doing for the past few years. Everyone agrees that the changes in our policy are very beneficial and helpful to those who need it, right?"

He looked even less receptive to the idea than her frightened patients, who nodded furiously just because they were afraid of upsetting anyone. "I warned you so many times about what would happen to you if you disobeyed, and now look at you!"

She looked down at her disheveled appearance and dirt-covered, torn clothes. "I know, but the worst has happened and we're still here, aren't we? What's there to be afraid of?"

"You think this is the worst that they can do to you?" He leaned in to whisper through the bars, tone quieter as he tried to keep anyone else from hearing their conversation. "Ghea, they'll take you from me, and if they found out about your  _condition_ -"

"They won't," she assured him, drawing as close to the door as she dared with the guards pointing their weapons at her. The Dockmaster groaned quietly at the sight of Ghea staring down the barrel of a gun with a bright smile. "Besides, Franky and his friends needed help, and I was tired of never being able to treat patients right. Maybe I can't help them with the virus, but I can do my part here, with those injured in the attack."

His face blanched. "Those pirates… _they_  convinced you to do this? Ghea, they're going to die, and if you don't stop this then you'll only follow them straight to the execution stand."

"W-what are you talking about?" she stammered, reaching out to grasp at the bars of the door to steady herself.

"They have an island-wide search for them, specifically the bastard that started this entire thing. Anyone aiding them will share their fate."

Ghea was horrified. " _That_  man? He's sick and dying, Dockmaster! What in the world do they want with him?"

Of course she would think of the patients before herself…The Dockmaster shook his head helplessly, unable to figure out what to say to get through to her. "Listen, I don't know anything beyond what I've overheard at the Inner City base, but this isn't your problem. We're just two people caught up in something that is so much bigger than us, and we mean nothing to HQ or those pirates. Let me get you out of here, and we can pretend that none of this happened, but you have to choose your side now."

Her eyes were wide and disbelieving as she searched his face for a sign that he wouldn't do this to her. He was giving her an ultimatum, but the choice was still hers in the end, right? Franky, that longnosed boy, and their sick friend still needed help, but she wanted to stay with the Dockmaster so badly; it scared her to think that this was what it came down to. She wanted to say so many things, why she wanted to help the pirates fighting for their lives out there, and her coworkers dying in the rubble of the offices, and why she was choosing to weigh in on a war that had nothing to do with her and would probably not notice if she died in the process.

The only thing she managed to say came down to her and the Dockmaster: "I'm finally doing what I've always wanted. Why can't you be happy for me?"

He stormed away without another word, leaving Ghea clutching desperately at the bars with tears rolling down her cheeks. In the end, her rebellion, while managing to scare and confuse the wits out of her guards and fellow prisoners, had achieved very little. She had alienated herself from the Dockmaster for the rest of her life (however short it might be at this point), she hadn't been able to help Franky save his friends or provide them with this new piece of crucial information, and somewhere out there, Sanji had unknowingly become the target of a manhunt that would probably take the entire island with it, if the destruction of the Dockmaster's offices and the port was anything to go by.

She felt utterly, wretchedly  _useless_.


	14. The Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji enters the medical field in the most unexpected way possible, Chopper has found something curious about the virus, and HQ finds their target, maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I feel really bad because I'm not revealing the main point of the plot quickly enough and I'm afraid that all of this superfluous stuff is getting boring, but then I remember how much I enjoy writing it and continue on my merry way. I hope you like it, at any rate, and sorry for being so heavy-handed with Mr. Prince's identity (the hints have given it away completely, huh?) and the pseudo-medical science stuff (seriously, please forgive me if you understand just how utterly contrived the explanations in this chapter are; I'm just having fun, I'm sorry).
> 
> I also want to take a moment to point out that not everything about these characters and events is as it seems, and point-of-view and perspective are key in certain places. Narrators are not always reliable, so keep that in mind when other plot points are revealed further on.
> 
>  **A Warning and a Reminder:** There is self-surgery and mentions of gore in this chapter, so if you don't think you can handle it, please skip out immediately. I wouldn't really call it graphic, but a couple of really awful things are described at certain points in the chapter. I looked back on it after I had finished and couldn't believe what I had written. Maybe I'm overworrying about it, but fair warning, this isn't pretty.

Thriller Bark was peaceful and cool in the soft shadows thrown across its fragmented deck by the early morning light, looking almost gilded as the dawn broke over the crumbling remains of the castle they were sheltered in. Somewhere overhead in the clouds, distant but perpetual, he could hear the unmistakable shrill whine of the numerous machines he had seen attached to him when he woke up in the surgery room. His body was trembling and aching with the aftershocks of his captain's (his crew's) pain, but Sanji was cradled in his first memory's arms and feeling something akin to vulnerability for once in his life. He could ignore the world for eternity if he had to.

They sat near the rubble of one of the walls with their backs to the horrible blood-splattered ruins in the courtyard and faced the soft, beautiful sunrise head on. Mr. Prince did the talking, reminiscing about the years that Sanji could no longer remember now and reminding him of the childhood among the Gentleman's Pirates that he had long since forgotten.

"You were the light of our world, Swirly-baby, and even though the years afterward must have been lonely, all we hoped for was that you knew that you were loved, once. It might not seem like much, but it was what we could offer you." His tone was wistful at moments, but he didn't linger before gliding straight into happier stories and memories, like he knew what Sanji needed to hear right now. 

"Oh! I have a funny story to tell you. Remember the first time you fell in love?"

He then launched into a longwinded, energetic tale about the time Sanji "married" the ship's first mate, complete with a formal ceremony and feast that would last for days (or at least until the toddler fell asleep in a pile of discarded orange blossom corsages). "And I accidentally set the cake on fire, but you liked it even better that way. Tried to eat it after dumping sea water on it! We _did_ always tell you, quite foolishly, that it was the cure for everything."

"That actually sounds familiar," he chuckled as Mr. Prince leaned back and folded his arms behind his head, resting at ease against one of the upturned stone slabs. "I'm surprised I even survived my childhood long enough to make it to the orphanages, to be honest. But I was happy."

"Good." Sanji looked up at that brilliant smile again, the reason that he had never really forgotten about love his entire life and the reason he was such a hopeless fool around those that he loved. "I'm glad."

Mr. Prince was so warm and safe that he thought he would never stop crying, even though the despair and grief at his friends' deaths had retreated to the back of his mind; he couldn't believe that this was actually happening. Rough but kind fingertips came up to brush away his tears, and Sanji laughed weakly at his own sentimentality and wiped his eyes hurriedly, thinking about how ridiculous he probably looked.

"Sorry," he mumbled in a hoarse voice, fidgeting nervously with the edge of his unfamiliar, torn shirt (he couldn't even remember getting dressed this morning, and something told him these weren't even his clothes anymore). "They won't stop, sorry."

There was a low murmur of laughter at his back from Mr. Prince's chest, and he felt him lean forward and rest his chin on top of Sanji's head. "Why would you apologize for that, dear love?"

With a little sigh and some careful shifting, Mr. Prince brought his hands up and held them out in front of Sanji, palms facing up and steady and inviting. Slowly, Sanji put his hands over them, tracing out the scars and calluses on the sea-weathered skin with tears welling in his eyes. His childish delight and wonderment quickly gave way to a different emotion as he noticed something.

He rested both of his palms flat against Mr. Prince's hands and frowned as they were almost dwarfed by his own. Sanji's fingers were just a little longer and thicker, and his palms were more slender than Mr. Prince's but made up for them in overall size. "Your hands…"

"They used to be bigger than yours back then, no?" He could hear the amusement in Mr. Prince's voice as he spoke, soft and fondly. "Your hands were these wee things, like this big-" he measured their size against his palms with his thumb and index finger "-and you could barely grasp one of my fingers in them. Now, well…"

He folded his fingers over Sanji's hands and chuckled at the difference that nearly two decades made. "These are definitely your father's lovely hands; mine were never so large and elegant."

Realization seemed to strike him, and he straightened with a startled sigh. "Has it been that long already? But Sanji, what in the world are you doing here?"

Sanji held on to his hands and brought them up to cradle against his chest, heart pounding with dread at the question that edged its way into the forefront of his mind. What was he doing here, and where in the world was he in the first place? He couldn't figure out of this was supposed to be punishment or peace; Kuma's earlier presence and Mr. Prince's appearance had left him feeling like he was drifting and lost.

He bit his lip and leaned back against that solid, comforting presence, his anchor in the storm of confusion in his mind. "Am I dead?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth that he had to double over with a groan as a particularly strong wave of pain broke through his defenses; hidden underneath the thick, soft folds of his shirt was the coagulated blood pooling underneath his pale skin like a bruise, the persistent reminder of what he had been ignoring this whole time. Mr. Prince sighed and looked out at Thriller Bark's courtyard, which had begun to grow dimmer in increasing increments as though the light of the sun was dying overhead. From nowhere in particular the sharp smell of alcohol and the whirr of the breathing mask edged into his perception. "You've built yourself a pretty little prison, but even all of your willpower cannot keep you in here forever, my dear."

"You feel real," he argued softly, already losing his battle against the bitter disappointment he felt at admitting that this was nothing more than another dream. Indulging in a sudden whim, he reached up and snatched the cap he knew would be perched at the top of Mr. Prince's head, and a few long curls fell over his shoulder with the abrupt motion. "…you felt so real, Mr. Prince."

"Hallucinations usually do, otherwise you would never believe I was merely a figment of your own imagination, would you?"

It stung, knowing how close he had been at happiness again, no matter how false and hollow it had been; for him, there was nothing but hell waiting back in the real world. How could he ever want to leave this comfort and warmth all over again? "I ruined everything back there, Mr. Prince."

"By all means, stay, if that's what you think you should do," Mr. Prince shrugged and settled back against the slab, staring at him expectantly while the sounds from the surgery faded back into the distance. Before him sat the loveliest person he had ever known, with bright blue eyes that seemed to blaze electricity and a smile that only his own captain could ever hope to match. Up above them the morning sky was cloudless and the truest blue he had ever seen before. It was like paradise, if he closed his eyes and pretended.

Sanji closed his eyes and found that the decision he had to make was not as difficult as he had wanted to believe. In fact, he discovered that there wasn't much of a choice after all.

"Mr. Prince, I…"

"I understand." He was tugging at the front brim of the cap, a nervous habit of his that Sanji was surprised he still remembered. "Do what you have to, but don't rush to get back here. I may not be waiting where you would expect."

Sanji beamed, trying to etch that image of his beloved prince into his mind forever. He would need it out there. "You were always terrible at playing the damsel-in-distress, Mr. Prince."

"That is uncalled for! Cruel, wicked! I tried my hardest for you every time!" His grin was teasing, but there was still a sad fondness in his eyes as they tried to prolong their goodbyes. "If anything, it only made you treat me even more like…like…"

"Like a queen," Sanji finished simply, causing Mr. Prince to let out a peal of laughter and hug him tightly.  _I always fed you way too many fairytales, didn't I? But they were my favorites as well, Sanji._ He leaned into the embrace and closed his eyes, thinking that there was no better way to leave his dream than in a moment like this, still held safe and sound in the warm, strong arms of a parent he lost too soon and would never meet like this again.  _I know, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Mr. Prince...Mima._

* * *

"My hands feel funny."

Chopper looked up from his medical journals and smiled gently at the captain, who was staring at his newly treated hands with a suspicious glare. "They're healing, Luffy; you're going to be alright."

On the other side of the room, Nami was slumped over with her face in her hands and breathing these soft, hitched little sobs of relief while Robin rubbed soothing circles over her back; next to the women, Brook stood with his back to the wall and was alternating between blinking rapidly at the ceiling, worrying a used handkerchief in his hands, and composing a stirring ballad of triumph over certain diseased death. He gave up on both and just wept happily into Captain Thaddeus' shoulder, who wore a huge smile on his bearded face; his relief at Luffy's turn of health was echoed by the rest of his crew, who felt like a great weight had been lifted from both ships. The atmosphere felt a lot lighter and happier.

Zoro stood by Luffy's bedside silently, covering his eyes with one hand and grinning wider than he had been able to in a long, long time. He felt a hand brush against his knee and found Luffy watching him with wide, dark eyes that gleamed with energy and light.

"Oi, Zoro," the captain said as he sat up gingerly, still suffering from the draining effects of the fever though it had broken about an hour ago. "This means we're going to turn the ship around soon and go back for them, okay?"

Before he could accept his orders (because Luffy did  _not_  do requests), Chopper held his hooves up to interrupt them. "Whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves, Luffy. You're still in no shape to be heading back there. None of us are."

"What do you mean, Chopper?" Robin asked from her place at Nami's side; she kept an arm wrapped comfortingly around the navigator's trembling shoulders. "And how did you figure out how to cure our captain?"

Nami's head snapped up at the mention of a cure. "You've figured out the virus, right? Sanji-kun can be cured too?"

Brook murmured in agreement and blew his nose (which he didn't have, ohohoho!) with the handkerchief. "Thank goodness, that seastone reaction was quite dreadful enough. When  _can_  we head back, Chopper?"

The doctor glanced around the room at all of them and sighed deeply before jumping down from his perch on the edge of Luffy's bed and gathering up his notes. Everyone remained quiet while he laid everything out on the table and set up his books and papers like he was stalling for time. After he couldn't figure out anything else to postpone his answers, he sighed again and tapped his hoof against the cover of one of his books. "Okay, first things first…the medical report from the Dockmaster's offices lied. That wasn't seastone in the vaccine."

"Yeah? Then what the hell nearly killed our captain?" Zoro frowned, not liking the sound of this conversation already.

He got the idea when Duval had shown him the process in which he made his poison, and he left a few formulas in the margins of Chopper's notes. That was when he noticed the similarity it had to one of the structures in the virus, and he decided to investigate what the "seastone" really was. He looked up from the various figures drawn in his book and pointed at the sketch he had made of the structure. "Basically, it's a caustic poison they were passing as 'trace elements and naturally occurring substances'."

Luffy's expression was dangerously quiet. "They put poison in my crew. They put poison in  _my_  crew."

Nami looked down at her hands in shock, slowly tracing out the area where they had injected her arm with the virus. It had long since healed, but she felt strangely violated. "Why didn't it affect us like it did to Luffy and Sanji?"

"It would never affect any one of you like it did to Luffy because its makeup is similar to seastone in a way that it only attacks people who have eaten a Devil's Fruit," Chopper explained quickly, noticing the murderous expression on the captain's face. "Labeling it as seastone was their way of getting it past the radar so people wouldn't be afraid to take it…well, unless you were a Fruit user."

Robin tapped her finger to her chin and mused on the topic slowly. "I see; that was their way of keeping certain types of people away, like us, but for what reason? It doesn't make sense."

"I certainly cannot think of any good reasons," Brook nodded, furrowing his brow in thought. "Are we considered faulty or bad to them?"

"You should consider yourself  _lucky_  you didn't go through that," Nami shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight just thinking about it. Anyway, what about Sanji? How come he got the active virus and we didn't? Or is this another 'gatekeeper' type of thing?"

"It's really complicated," Chopper said as he flipped his notes to a different page, "because when I compared all of your blood samples the first day, they were exactly identical down to the molecule. Look, Sanji is a whole different can of worms, and I really don't know where to begin with this."

Zoro shook his head impatiently. "Just tell us what you think is making him sick. If it's not the vaccine that's different, then what is it?"

"It's weird; you know that they were all similar when I first looked at them, but now, when I thought of checking them and comparing them with the sample I got from Sanji after he fell sick, no one's but his had changed." He had found that the samples from the first day were all inactive except for his. Chopper still couldn't believe that it had taken him this long to think of comparing them, preoccupying himself with just trying to stop his friends from dying to really dig into the research.

"Something activated it?' Luffy tried, squinting hard at the complex images and sketches on the page. "I don't get it."

"Neither do I. It's medically illogical, and yet the virus is active in his bloodstream where it wasn't before." He sat down by Luffy's bed and opened up his medical pack, revealing a row of meticulously labeled vials. "So, I thought, there's something about Sanji, and I dug up the blood samples I took before the vaccine, from Thriller Bark. Clean samples that I could use as a control."

"What happened at Thriller Bark?" Zoro interrupted suspiciously, earning himself a strange look from the doctor. He fidgeted and looked away uncomfortably, turning one of the vials in his hands. Why did he have to open up his big mouth like that? Now everyone was staring at Chopper, and all he could think about was that they knew about his secret exchange with Sanji.

_Chopper, please; there was so much blood everywhere…take mine and give it to him, I'm **begging**  you._

"Does it matter if it's going to get us closer to the cure?" he stammered, scrambling around for his notebook. The swordsman stared at him long and hard before looking away sullenly. "A-anyway, it's come in handy for a different theory of mine, and it's really complicated so if you don't understand let me know."

Robin smiled encouragingly at him. "You're an excellent doctor; we'll be able to follow, alright?"

"…okay…Sanji's blood is a really rare type that can't actually match up with most people's types-" _I see…useless even in that. Never mind, this conversation never happened; alright, Chopper?_ "-and I mean it's incredibly specialized when you get down to the structure and genetic properties. I didn't think anything of it until I saw what was happening with the virus in all of his infected samples."

When he had really seen what happened when the virus interacted with Sanji's blood in all of his hours of observation, he had been shocked to say the least. The virus seemed to have many inactive forms and structures on a molecular level, like someone had just blended several substances together into a suspension and left it there to settle on its own. In the others' samples, they had simply faded away and had likely cleared out of their systems, but Sanji's was like striking a match and throwing it into an open container of fuel. The virus did the opposite of clearing out; it multiplied and activated on the spot. Within hours the only clean samples of his blood left were from Thriller Bark.

He hadn't been able to make sense of it until he looked at genetic material from both the blood and the virus. His particular genetic sequences and structures all corresponded perfectly with every strain of the virus and switched it on like a light, not like the virus was made for him but like  _he_  was made for the virus, or rather, variations of the virus. Each strain had a completely different base sequence, yet Sanji's sequence had its match somewhere on the long code of genetic material he had looked at. Chopper would have been thrilled with wonderment at the completely bizarre phenomenon if it hadn't been this close to killing his friend.

"His blood is acting like a master key to this thing, but I don't know what he's supposed to be opening. A different version of the viruses (because there is definitely more than one) or something like that. All I know is that he is not going to die."

Zoro looked at him sharply. "What makes you say that?"

In all the blood samples that Chopper had studied there came a point where the virus stabilized and the two were coexisting together, a final form that was unlocked that seemed to send a signal out to the other variations and stopped the frantic activation frenzy. As the virus stopped attacking his cells and settled within his blood, he realized that this wasn't just a random medical or even scientific phenomenon; this was  _sentient_.

"Because it needs him to stay alive."

* * *

HQ had sent only the best doctors on this mission, telling them that it was of the upmost importance that they find and bring their target back alive, no matter what they had to do in order to accomplish that. The fact that HQ has also chosen to send out their last resort weapons this time made the entire operation just a little bit harder.

That was the diplomatic version of events. The more honest, strongly worded account had too much profanity for them to even consider putting on the report, so those of the med team would just have to grin and bear the indignity of working in these conditions.

Five stepped carefully over one of the attack's victims and hoped she wouldn't slip on what had to be liters of blood covering the hospital's tile floors. The Hounds always left such a mess, which was exactly why they were the last resort. Sometimes it was hard to tell if HQ remembered that; sometimes it was harder to tell if they cared. "You heard about the two rogues that they spotted in the woods?"

"No, what about 'em?" Three muttered and investigated one of the bodies strewn across the intensive care wing. This had been a completely unnecessary move by the bosses, but it had probably been more of a demonstration of power than anything else. The Director had been a thorn in HQ's side for too long...twenty years too long.

"Well, they actually made fools of the Border Guard last night; twenty-nine down within minutes." Five looked overwhelmed with mirth. "They haven't caught them yet, and I really can't wait to see their faces when I go rub it in."

"That's great," Three said flatly, unable to care enough about the Border Guard to seek them out and mock them like Five loved to do. He had enough on his plate as it was, like finding whatever the Hounds had left of the target. Didn't HQ realize that alive and in pieces were on opposite ends of the scale? In their eagerness to get back at the Director they had probably set back their plans again. "Don't bother telling me how it goes."

If the first floor was a meaningless slaughter, then the Gorgot was nothing short of a bloodbath. No one had escaped alive on this floor, unlike some of the others where most of the victims had simply been injured and all of the patients had been spared. Three would have been thankful for that if he actually had the authorization to help those people. The  _wonderful_  thing about being a doctor on Staithe Wharf was that he didn't even need to stress over doing his job. In fact, they "discouraged" it; any medical treatment that wasn't beneficial to them or their agenda was basically outlawed. He never failed to be amazed at HQ's audacity, but it wasn't like he was going to put his neck on the line just so they could squelch his little spark of rebellion by executing him.

"Oh my God…Three, I found the Director."

Five was standing over the doctor's body, or at least what had been the upper half of it. Her surgical gown had been torn at the back, leaving the beautiful blue tattoo spilling down her neck exposed all the way down to her bare shoulders. Her hair spilled in coils out of her plaited coiffure and over her face, hiding whatever horrible expression of pain was probably etched onto her features.

"They bisected her," Three breathed, unable to believe that HQ had ordered this attack on her. This was too cruel, even for them. "They sent them out specifically to do this to her."

"The Hounds are brutal indeed." Five said mechanically with an elbow to his side; when he glared at her, she mouthed at him to watch what he said. HQ could have a transponder on them and be overhearing everything that they were saying. "Anyway, this means that the mark is close…check Surgery Five, the door's ajar. She looks like she was exiting the room when they attacked."

Three forced himself to work through the cold numbness he felt and stepped over his former mentor's corpse, ignoring the lump that had made itself at home in his throat and breathing in deeply so that he could calm his nerves. There really was no escape from HQ now; even the Biles had fallen down to their plans and schemes.

He found himself staring into a dimly lit room, quiet and untouched by the Hounds' ravenous destruction. "This…doesn't seem right."

"The bed's empty," Five put in helpfully, shoving past him into the surgery. "Doesn't look like it's even been used-"

 _Thump_.

She jumped at the loud noise behind her and whirled around, only to find Three sprawled unconscious at the door. The corridor behind him was completely silent and empty. "Three?"

Not a second had passed before she joined him on the floor, attacked by an unseen assailant before they even had the chance to notice. Slowly, the door to Surgery Five closed with a decidedly firm thud.

* * *

The operating theatre lay dim and silent like a tomb, the only source of light coming from the long overhead above the sinks that the doctors strewn across the surgery floor had used to scrub in nearly nineteen hours ago. They created a slight annoyance underfoot, but as far as obstacles went they were hardly bothersome. It just meant more shuffling around them on the blood-slicked tiles, a task made more difficult by the fact that he was trying to keep himself together, literally.

His supplies, gathered from the various rooms that the hospital's invaders had broken into, lay in a neat row on the rim of the middle sink, organized in the order he assumed that he would need them. This wasn't what he had expected to wake up to, but he was resigned to taking the lot assigned to him; it was what he had always done. Lay out his situation bluntly, take stock of what he had been given, and then plan accordingly and forge ahead. Eighty-five days was harder than this, and all it had been was a lot of waiting and endurance. This required fortitude of a different kind.

He breathed in slowly, releasing his clutch on his stomach and preparing for the procedure by scrubbing in all the way to his elbows; he had no way of really knowing how sterile his workspace was but couldn't afford to go find a new place to continue the process. The long mirror against the wall provided the ideal area for this, at any rate, and he was running out of time to do it if he didn't even know whether those who had slaughtered the doctors were coming back. He didn't ask why they had spared him; the fact was that they had and that he had a newfound resolve to get to the bottom of what was happening on the island. Another deep breath, and then he pulled on a pair of surgical gloves.

_It starts with one; don't think about it and maybe it'll go fast._

_Click_. The staple sank easily into the soft flesh of his stomach, and he thought that this might actually go smoother than he had expected. Carefully pulling the edges of the incision close together, Sanji brought the medical stapler back up and set the next one in, and then another. He didn't even let himself think about the pain; it was bad enough that he couldn't trust his nearly-nonexistent medical knowledge to successfully choose out a painkiller dose that wouldn't kill him, and anesthesia was definitely out of the picture for self-surgery. Still, what he wouldn't give for a cigarette right about now to take the edge off; the nicotine patches just weren't the same no matter how many he plastered on.  _Even just one good drag…_

Halfway through the first row one of the edges of his skin slipped out of his bloodied fingers and he shoved the staple into the wound itself. He dropped the gun and braced himself against the counter, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. It took him a moment to catch his breath long enough to hiss out a string of curse words and fight off the darkness eating away at the corners of his vision.

"…it's just the shock, Sanji," he muttered thickly, rolling his head back and blinking rapidly at the harsh bright lights of the overhead. "It doesn't hurt…"

He was beginning to realize that the lack of help in getting them lined up properly was going to slow him down. And he was going to have to pull that one out and do it over.

His hand hovered over the staple remover, but hesitation made him weak and he brought both hands down around the edges of the sink as he tried not to panic. He hung his head and bit down on his lip, wishing that whoever had killed the doctors would just come back and finish him off.  _I can't do this, not by myself._

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the faded black fabric of Zoro's bandana hanging off the corner of one of the monitors by the bed, and a grim smile spread across his lips. Sanji extended his hand out to it, trembling and bloody and slick, but it was desperately out of reach. He would have just gotten blood all over it anyway.

"Nothing like human limits to get in your way, huh, Zoro?" he chuckled darkly, picking up the remover and straightening up to look back at the open incision. "That's the difference between you and I, isn't it?"

Half a minute later, he had the new staple in and was forcing himself to continue, reminding himself that until he got himself patched up, his crew would never get their closure. This was what he deserved anyway for the whole mess he had brought down on the harbor. One for each crewmate, he told himself, giving each staple a name as he went along the incision, one for Zoro, for Luffy, Nami, all the way to Brook, and when he ran out of crewmates he continued with the Lathos pirates, making up his own names when he couldn't remember if Mikolo's crew had a Despinna or not. It got harder when he reached the first intersecting incisions; he could tell it wasn't the doctors' work by the jagged, torn edges that connected the transverse lines and the unusual shape of it. Something had interrupted them in the middle of surgery.

"And it mauled them like a wild animal," he panted and reached for the alcohol to clean off some of the area so that he could see what he was doing. Blood pooled under his bare feet, hot and slippery, but he managed to keep himself steady and upright for the remainder of his self-surgery.

Every time he thought about giving up, he spared the black bandana a glance and goaded himself onward with taunts that he imagined Zoro would say to him. Either that or he promised himself a good dose of the heaviest narcotics he could find in the hospital's pharmacy, overdosing risks be damned. After a while he forgot what he did to keep going and simply went through the motions until finally, blissfully, he was left standing in front of the mirror with his hands bracing him against the sink and staring at his reflection with a deadened look in his eyes and a newfound appreciation for what Chopper did to patch them up after every battle.

With a tired chuckle and the shakiest hands in the world (but he'd just performed an amateur surgery on himself and that counted as much of an excuse as anything), Sanji traced out the lines of his closed wound, wondering if this was just someone's idea of a huge cosmic joke on him. All he knew was that he was never going to take their doctor for granted again.

 _Oh_. His death had slipped Sanji's mind for a moment, and he suddenly felt very,  _very_  lonely and heartbroken. Memories of the happy sweets-loving, bright-eyed, intelligent little reindeer flashed through his mind, and he imagined the way that the Sunny went down off the coast of the island and how they had died.

_Stop, you can't think about that if you want to make it up to them. You do that and you die._

Somehow, the thought of death seemed so much more inviting again.

Sanji looked into his tired reflection's face, at his wan expression and clammy, pale skin, the dark rings underneath his dull, red-rimmed eyes and the splatters of dried blood and fresh blood along his temple and jawline. None of that mattered, really; he would walk around like a corpse with his insides spilling out of his stomach cavity if it meant that his crew could  _live_. He dropped his head in his hands and stifled a dry sob, not caring that he was dragging his blood-stained gloves all over his face. It was so hard to find a reason to keep going anymore, and even thoughts of tracking down the person responsible for this scheme were weak in the face of their demise.

A startled cry from one of the beds behind him brought him out of his lapse of composure; he glanced over his shoulder to see that the pair of intruders he had intercepted coming into the surgery was up and awake.

The one on the surgery table closest to him tried to sit up but was immediately stopped by the restraints; he looked down at them in shock and then at Sanji, who just held his gaze steady on the man's disbelieving expression.

"…th-the target's up, Five… _it's the skeleton key_."

Sanji smiled widely and rounded slowly on the pair, who looked like they were nearly dead of fright; he knew that the sight of him wasn't that pretty, of course, but figured that they had probably seen worse just outside the operating theater, after they had killed all of those innocent people and doctors. They would just have to manage dealing with his nightmarish appearance.

"Oh…my…God…we can still bring it in alive."

He leaned unsteadily on one of the equipment carts and pretended that he wasn't feeling several seconds away from passing out. "Answers…very good, I hope you two can keep them coming, for your sake."

"H-how did you-?" The second intruder said, a lot bolder than the other one who couldn't stop doing his wonderful imitation of a fish out of water (the resemblance was uncanny, actually). There was something about this one that made him feel a little guilty and a little more lenient, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "HQ had the Hounds set out; there should have been very little left of you, at least not all in one piece."

"Oh, I don't do well as prey; I'm more of a hunter, thank you." He ran his fingers lightly over one of the surgery kits set out on the table and chose out a sleek new scalpel, opening the package with barely controlled anger and focused on the only reason he was still conscious and on his feet. The first intruder's face lost what little color he had left in his cheeks as he twirled the surgical instrument around lazily in his bloody fingers. Sanji's smile turned into a strained, toothy grin as he moved to stand between the two beds. "Now, then…tell me what the hell is going on in this place so I can decide who I need to kill in order to avenge my crew."

He had never seen two people actually stumble over their own tongues so quickly and desperately in order to divulge information before. Perhaps looking like he had just dragged himself out of a grave wasn't such a bad look for him, he mused, setting the scalpel back down on the table. Now he just had to calm them down long enough to make sense of the gibberish they were spouting.

It was promising to be a long day.


	15. Games we play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji and Zoro just never were able to see eye to eye, when it came down to it.(In which lists are forgotten, and friendships die.)

The blue hour before dawn was one of the best times to mentally prepare for another long day on the Thousand Sunny, and therefore it was Sanji's favorite part of the day. He would drop everything, whether it was the meal plan of the day or a fresh cigarette, and step under the hot spray of the shower and just run over his lists.

_List: Food Stores and Pantry Restocking._

He closed his eyes and let the water run over his head as he ticked off all of the supplies and stock in the holds, carefully adding the newer purchases from the market the other day. As he scrubbed the dirt and blood out of his sweat slicked hair, he felt his fingers brush against the place where the swordsman had shoved his head partway into the panel between the kitchen and the pantry. He gave an involuntary wince before he realized that there was no bruise there, no bump or any indication that he had ever been hurt. Strange, had he healed already? That was…what was he doing again?

Right, the lists.

Some of them were clear-cut and straightforward, like all of the general lists focusing on his kitchen and role in the crew as a cook. These were the main, constant ones that rarely changed, except when a special occasion arose or when Luffy sneezed into the cinnamon jar again.

_List: Swan-swan and Robin-chwan's Favorite Snacks._

The best one was the ever-growing list of the treats that he tried out on the women, carefully chosen and tailored to their tastes; they never rejected a single one. This list had its own offshoots based on time of day, season, and the women's current activity (he would never make the mistake of serving Robin an evening mocha in the morning). He smiled at the thought of them on the deck, sunbathing and reading while he chose out something cool and refreshing from the  _Midday Tropical Drinks_  list to serve them; if he was feeling up to it, he would crush enough ice to make enough drinks for all of them, even if he made the men go serve themselves in the galley instead. His shoulder would ache after several rounds of those, but sometimes it was worth it.

He rubbed his right shoulder tenderly and wondered why it didn't hurt anymore. After that explosion back on the barrier island, he hadn't been able to do much with his right arm, but now it was as though all of the stiffness and bruising had suddenly vanished as if by magic. A little bit of testing revealed that he had his full range of motion back, perhaps even better than before. Perplexed, he moved on to his next list.

_List: Batten Down the Hatches, Luffy's Stomach is Awake and Sentient._

Lists were his way of dealing with all of the crazy antics, dilemmas, and general mayhem that the Straw Hat Pirates were so very capable of on a daily basis. It was just easier to compartmentalize these things before they happened, if at all possible. When the captain's stomach got going, there was no time for anything but to continue cooking at an increasingly harried pace and to fend off his advances to the best of his ability. He usually didn't have the patience to handle him or any of the others for long without his short temper blowing up on everyone, so the lists helped sort through the chaos and kept him anchored, in a way.

 _A lot of good that they did me._  His lists were utterly worthless now, and they would never undo this horrible, wretched nightmare.

His hand slipped on the knob when he went to turn the spray off, and he felt a lump in his throat as he looked down at his body; besides the interrupted surgery incisions across his stomach, he had no other injuries, no matter where he looked. The fractured ribs, the gash from the harpoon, all of his scrapes and bruises from the past few weeks were completely gone…even the swordsman's mark on his side.

Sanji brushed his fingertips lightly across the invisible mark on the skin between his ribs, where the hilt of his prized blade once slammed into his side: a warning, a command, a break off.  _Stand down, cook; that's not your place._

He had woken up to a massive bruise over his ribs and a near-dead swordsman, and he had understood everything.  _Message received, first mate._

Still, even though he knew now exactly what his own useless, embarrassing actions and Zoro's response on the island meant for the two of them, the mark had been his to keep, hadn't it? It felt desperate, sad, and sick that he considered it anything other than what it really was (a simple bruise) but it was  _his_. They had taken it from him, that and the damn concussion, and it was all he had left of the stupid swordsman; they erased every trace of Zoro and his crew from his body, the list of all the injuries he had sustained for (and from) them, any sign that they had ever been his.

What right did they have to take that away?

He dug his fingers into the space between his ribs against the invisible mark, hard enough to leave a new bruise, and he threw away all of his lists. There was no use for any of them now, was there? No more pantries to restock, no precious, beloved crewmates to concoct special treats for, no whirlwind of a captain to brace his kitchen against, nothing but a watery grave at the bottom of the ocean.

Wrapping his trembling arms around his stomach, he stumbled out of the shower, hissing in pain as the new staples tugged on the edges of torn skin. From the looks of the wound, it would heal badly, if he lived long enough for that, and it would definitely leave scarring all over his stomach. The shape, though… _how ironic_ , he smirked weakly, pulling on a pair of trousers before heading back into Surgery Five to his awaiting captives.

Everywhere he looked as he walked down the silent corridor, there was nothing but carnage and death and blood splattered across the walls, the handiwork of the Hounds. No one had ever seen the Hounds, according to Five,  _and lived_ , but they were the fate that presumably awaited him for the sole crime of existing. The other intruder, Three, had been less harsh and hateful with his words, which was strange because he felt more sympathy for his partner despite the man's cruel words. At any rate, he was apparently the target of an island-wide search at the order of HQ, a mysterious organization that these two worked for but had no idea why they wanted him so badly.

He had something inside of him that they wanted, which was how he had survived the virus, or whatever they had injected in him. Sanji was certain that whatever he had, he would have given it to them if they'd just  _asked_ ; there had been no reason to drag his friends into this…nor the doctors currently scattered in pieces in the hallway. Nothing could have been so important as to shed so much blood over him, no matter what the hell he had of theirs.

_An entire island for one man…yeah, that **definitely**  sounds about right._

He started up a new list as he turned the doorknob.

_List: Things That Are Horribly Wrong With This Island._

Sanji didn't say a word as he entered the room; his presence was enough to draw the two HQ medics' attention from the surgery tables. "Tell me how to get to HQ, Three."

The man stared at him like he had grown an extra head, but his partner immediately bristled at the request. "Like hell he will! Three, don't say another word; it already knows too much."

He shot Sanji a glare and struggled against his bonds furiously, twisting the folds of his coat around with his writhing. "Bad enough it caught us off guard, but there's no way I'll give it the chance to kill us too."

With a patience he couldn't believe he still possessed, Sanji turned away and moved back to the sink to pull himself together. "It? That's a little harsh, don't you think? I won't hurt you any more than I already did."

"Hm, like I'll believe anything coming out of your mouth, idiot!"

He shrugged and began to wipe up the edges of the wound with alcohol and pressed a good amount of gauze to it, trying to figure out how he was going to stem the flow of blood so that he wouldn't bleed out while moving. It was probably obvious to them how little he knew about what he was doing, but he had already resigned himself to the fact that he was alone in this. Three turned his head away during a particularly agonizing patch, and while Sanji was gasping and panting over the edge of the counter, head reeling from the pain and nausea, he heard the man's voice drift over from the beds.

"You need medical attention, kid."

Sanji rolled his eyes even though the other man couldn't see anything but his back. "Thanks for the update, that's kind of what I'm trying to do."

"I meant real, professional medical care," Three sighed, tugging on his restraints to see how far they would allow him to move. "Untie these and we'll do something about it."

"Mm, no thanks. I'm good." He stifled a cry and clenched his fist over his stomach, unable to do anything but ride out the pain this time. "I-I-I'm…fine…"

The medic sounded desperate and frightened. "Let me help you,  _please_."

Sanji looked over his shoulder with a watery, trembling stare, and he knew that despite the lengths he was going through to appear in control and calm, he probably looked completely helpless and lost. "Y-your doctors…wouldn't h-h-help me back at the harbor...why would y-you want to help me h-here…?"

It seemed that he was taken aback by his response, and Three didn't try to ask him to be freed anymore. There was a rustling noise from the other bed, and Five gave a low, angry growl as he tried to get free. "Three, I'm disgusted with you."

"Five, he's just a kid."

Sanji closed his eyes and tuned out their arguing, finding it uninteresting and frankly insulting to him. One of them did nothing but talk down to him like he was lower than vermin, and the other wanted to treat him like he was just a child. Neither of those options really appealed to him at all; he had asked for simple directions and got an argument between two idiots about ethics and whether or not he deserved to be treated one way or the other. Tucking the end of the bandages in and adjusting the dressings slowly, he grimaced as fresh blood began to soak through the bandages immediately. He gingerly walked to the supplies cabinet and scanned the shelves for extra gauze and tape; if he was actually going to strike out for HQ, then he would need to be prepared to change this more often than he had hoped.

They were still arguing when he returned with a pack of medical supplies from the closet, along with a pair of boots he had swiped off some cold, stiff corpse and an assortment of clothes gathered from several recently occupied rooms on the level below their floor. Dropping everything onto Three's table, he picked through the clothes and tried to come up with some semblance of an outfit, wondering which deity he had offended in order to end up out in the middle of an abandoned hospital on an unfamiliar island with no access to his own clothes (or any of his wardrobe back on the Sunny ever again).

He could feel their stares on him as he dressed but deliberately ignored them until he was done; they had made him wait around for their shitty argument, then they could wait for him to make himself look presentable with what little he had. The shirt slid over his bandages smoothly, and it was loose enough that he wouldn't immediately get blood all over it (yet). The boots were more difficult because he actually had to bend over to put them on. After several false starts, he perched himself on the edge of Three's table and brought his leg up carefully, holding his breath as he felt the sharp reminders of his injury dig into his skin and dredge up another wave of pain before he could finish lacing the boots.

Finally, while he gave himself a moment to catch his breath, Three spoke up behind him in a weak, timid voice. "Kid, listen carefully to me, because I'm only saying this once."

Sanji didn't let himself get his hopes up; for all he knew, the man was about to tell him off and try to scream for his fellow goons. Pretending that he wasn't readying himself for a fight, he shrugged his shoulder and nodded. "Go ahead, I'm all ears."

"…take my uniform; they won't recognize you if you're dressed as one of the medics. I don't know how far you'll get, but head for the Cities. Maybe someone will be able to help you, or save you…or  _something_. Just please don't go rushing to your death."

He wanted to laugh, but the pain would only flare up again if he did, and he was really beginning to get tired of it. Where did he get the idea that Sanji was just going to leave this fight unfinished? And… _save_  him? Really? How weak did he think he was to die of something as stupid as a surgery wound? "Damsels-in-distress only exist in fairytales, Three. I don't need saving; I need revenge."

"And how do you plan going about that, Dingdong?" Five's curiosity won out over his hatred of Sanji and he was peering across the room at them, bright-eyed and intrigued. "HQ isn't exactly going to let you waltz in, even with a disguise. As soon as you open your mouth, they're going to know."

"What do you mean?" he asked, turning around to face him with a puzzled look. Five's eyes gleamed in amusement in the dim light.

"Oh, you don't get it, huh? Three, tell it what it's doing wrong."

Three sighed wearily. "Kid, you have an antiquated way of speaking, even in the Common tongue. It's your accent that's going to ruin your disguise."

Sanji leaned over the surgery cart and narrowed his eyes at the pair challengingly. "Then fix me."

* * *

Zoro stared out at the crashing grey surf on the rocky beach; did it ever do anything but storm on this island? Between a deadly virus that had a mind of its own, feuding pirates on the port and in the forests, and the lousy weather, Staithe Wharf was not all it was chalked up to be. On his personal scale, it probably didn't even rate with Thriller Bark, and he had taken the beating of his life on that island.

_None of us have even had an actual fight out here, and yet this has to be the worst place we've been to on the Grand Line._

He wondered if it was just his nerves that had him on edge or if there was some truth behind his statement. His judgment had never been wrong before; but then again, he had completely messed up with Sanji.

Since he joined the crew, there had been no doubt of his worth; Luffy's logic might be something of an unfathomable mystery even to his crew, but he had never once chosen wrong. The cook grated on his nerves with his overwhelming, better-than-thou attitude and mannerisms (Zoro's track record with prissy blonds in suits who still clung to Daddy's coattails was pretty small but already exceedingly terrible), and his ideals and morals clashed viciously with Zoro's principles, and he was just such a stereotypical  _pretty boy_  that the swordsman had generously given him half a day before he quit the crew and went running back to that bizarre restaurant. Luffy's crew was no place for a kid who would tell someone to abandon their morals in order to save their own skin. Zoro could never accept someone like that, anyway…

At Arlong Park, he had more than held his own against that fishman; he had completely  _dominated_  his fight. Zoro had been sure that he was dead as soon as he dove into the water with Kuroobi on his heels, but instead he dragged the fishman back up to dry land and defeated him in seconds.  _My chivalry can't save anyone, is that right?_  he threw Kuroobi's taunts back at him as they fought.  _My damn morals are worthless? I can't save a single one of them?_

He had never been so happy to be proven wrong, and he loved the idea of finally having an actual peer who could keep up with him, physically and intellectually (Usopp just wasn't sparring material, no matter his incredible potential, and Luffy, while he could more than handle a good beating, had no interest in conversation that didn't involve meat or fighting).

Their rivalry started as a game, with Zoro goading him into a hunting challenge; the cook was just so cloyingly sweet and subservient around Nami and Vivi, and he had just wanted another glimpse of that spark he had seen at Arlong Park. Besides, he had always liked to indulge his own competitive spirit (even though everyone knew that he was always just a little better, stronger, faster). As they continued their voyage through Alabasta and the Sky Island, all the way to Water 7, it got that much easier to be around him and take his stupid, amorous behavior at face value, for what it really was; no matter how often a beautiful woman could turn his head, the cook would always pull through for them in the end, and he would put up a damn good fight while he was at it. He was more than just a rival and a crewmate; he had become Zoro's comrade somewhere along the way, though Zoro had always assumed that those came second to their dreams.

It surprised him, then, when he found the cook standing between him and Kuma, swaying on legs that probably were only just holding him up.  _Take my life instead of his_. That was an impossible thing for him to request, and so Zoro had denied it for Kuma. The look of betrayed trust in his eyes before he passed out would probably haunt him for the rest of his life, but during that battle against the Shichibukai he had realized something important: he couldn't lose the cook.

Maybe he noticed the feeling when Oars had him in his grasp, merely a faint prick of dread, and when he watched him collapse during the fight with Kuma, clutching his leg (his weapon, his pride, his  _life_ ) and holding back sobs of pain, he had begun to realize what it all meant. The stand against Kuma had been the final piece clicking into place, and Zoro hadn't hesitated in removing the cook from the equation.

The problem with the cook was that he was strong, incredibly so; among the members of the crew he was the one who could keep up with him and Luffy, and he was the one who Zoro could trust to always fight by his side. He couldn't allow that anymore, not after Thriller Bark, and so he had pushed him away.  _I wouldn't let something like human limits stand in my way; that's the difference between you and I._ It had hurt more than was necessary, but discouraging him from matching him in battle while working twice as hard to get stronger himself was the only way he could be confident that the cook would be safe. Whether it was a good idea or not didn't matter anymore; Zoro just knew that he couldn't watch him fall like that again.

Chopper's new theory stated there was a probability that the virus wouldn't kill him, but it was hard to say if he could even function anymore with all the damage it had caused his body. Even if Usopp and Franky did find him, he might not survive the trip back.

_Well, I got what I wanted; I won't have to watch him die in the end._

Zoro buried his face in his hands and breathed in slowly. Where had he gone wrong? He'd lost a friend, and now he was about to lose a crewmate.  _Cook, wherever you are, do what you have to get back here. You can't die before-_

He looked down at all that he had left of Kuina and turned the white blade around in his hands, carefully tracing out the light pattern etched along the hilt of the sword. She hadn't known either, and he had never told her.

A half-smile tugged at his lips; that wasn't entirely true. If there was someone who'd come to value their friendship first, it was Kuina, even before he'd come into his own humility and discipline. He suspected they'd always have figured it out on some level, eventually. But those had been simpler feelings and thoughts, and this was...

_I haven't even told you… you're my best friend, Sanji. I'm sorry it took until now to realize it. But you can't die out there; I won't forgive you._

...he was lying again. Sanji wasn't the one he wouldn't be able to forgive.

 

* * *

"You have to go lower," Three instructed as Sanji heaved another desperate gasp and tried to keep from passing out from the pain. "All the way down in the diaphragm; you're too accustomed to speaking high and from the front of your mouth and nose."

_"I can't breathe."_

"Well, that's to be expected; you just had an extensive abdominal surgery that you haven't even begun to recover from. But you want to infiltrate HQ, so you're going to have to play the part. From the top!"

Sanji looked up shakily, blinking back tears and wondering if his manner of speaking was really that distinct or if Three was just having a good time torturing him with these exercises. "I thought you said from the bottom…?"

"Just give up; you're going to die either way," Five drawled from his bed. Three shot him a disappointed look.

"Ignore her, kid; she's not the easiest person to get along."

Sanji nodded slowly; it took a moment for the statement to sink in. When it did, it hit him harder than Zeff's leg coming at him after he ruined the soup back on the night that the Marine ambassadors had visited from East Blue headquarters. He gave a shuddering whimper and dissolved into incoherent cries that Three and Five struggled to understand. Somehow, they managed to get the gist of his distressed state, but it wasn't until he actually started stringing words together that the whole picture fell into place.

_"I am the shittiest person ever."_

Five rolled her eyes and said, "Dingdong, you're deluding yourself if you think that you could ever really harm anyone, let alone a woman."

Sanji shook his head and bit back another sob; at the rate he was going, he would pull several of the staples by the time he calmed down from this disastrous revelation. "You don't understand. I  _kicked_  a woman. I-I… _I'm a monster_!"

"You didn't know, now please calm down before you hurt yourself, kid." Three had given up trying to convince him that he had done nothing wrong and had started appealing to his logic instead. "She wasn't a woman in your eyes when you hit her, right?"

"Shut up, Three; she's a woman as long as she considers herself one, not when it's convenient for me!" Sanji's face was a furious dark red, and he looked ready to shove the nearest surgical instrument into Three's chest, whatever that might be (it was looking likely to be the scissors he had used to cut his bandages). "Don't you dare start making excuses for this or I'll kill you!"

Three didn't let himself be deterred. "Is there anything that'll make you stop crying? It was just a mistake, kid."

Sanji paced the room and wrung his hands anxiously, hiccupping with barely stifled sobs and muttered curses. "I can't be forgiven; I have too much blood on my hands."

"Oh for…Dingdong, you kicked me and knocked me out! I'm still here, alive and breathing! The world hasn't ended yet, so get your head out of your ass and revise that shit you call your code of honor." Three had never seen Five look so absolutely livid; she had a habit of practically spitting vitriol at the Border Guard, and yet it had never gotten her this riled up. She gave up straining against the restraints but continued her tirade against Sanji, who meekly looked at her with a trembling gaze. "Let me tell you what you are. You're a crazy bastard who stapled himself up after an extensive surgery, you're a good-for-nothing criminal who is probably going to get everyone on this island killed by merely existing in this place, you're a snooty little brat with the ugliest accent I've ever heard, and I really hate even looking at you, but you are not a monster for defending yourself against me."

Sanji fiddled with Zoro's bandana, unable to bring himself to look away from Five. "Even though I kicked you, you don't think I'm a monster?"

"I think you're a monster for other reasons, but that's right. Besides, most of the blood on your hands is your own. Now mop up and go send the world up in flames, Dingdong; and remember what I told you about your accent. It's hideous."

"Five, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he said with a weak but genuine smile. "Thank you."

"Shut up; I hate the way you talk all the way up there, all nasally and phlegmy. Go away and die."

Three chuckled as Sanji's smile simply brightened at her cruel words. "Always the charmer, Five. Anyway, kid; be careful to watch your accent and your speech, and don't actually go die just because she told you to."

Five growled, "You're walking straight into hell, Dingdong; everyone's going to be looking for you. Are you sure you actually want to do this?"

"So concerned for me," he sighed dreamily, ignoring the way she cringed at his loving gaze on her. "But that's quite convenient for me, actually. I was heading that way, too."

They exchanged a look of concern, but as much as Sanji appreciated it (especially Five's; she was  _such_  a wonderful, incredibly kind-hearted person underneath her hatred and viciousness towards him), there were several other people whose concern mattered the most to him. Eight of them, and he was going to track down the people who had harmed them and draw every last bit of pain out of them for what his crew had suffered.  _And if it's hell that I'm headed towards, that's fine, too. I'll drag all eight of them out of hell myself if I have to._


	16. Agua Potable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight reasons, eight hours, and one long walk to hell. Sanji loses his way in the aftermath of the death of the Strawhats and the Border Guard gets a (new) member in the form of the cowardly sniper, while twenty years ago Duparis goes to dangerous lengths for treasure and trove. No one makes safe choices, and mature adults are in shortage today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Body horror, medical impossibilities, regular horror, and general weird stuff that always bleeds into this story. I'm sorry; an attempt was made.

(from _The People's Argot)_

 **Blank** : _noun_. a recreational drink, usually alcoholic, prepared using solely potable water and sterilized equipment.

 **Non-blank** : _noun_. any of several alcoholic beverages prepared with unverified water sources, usually from the underground springs and rivers of the island's bedrock.

* * *

_The captain is sitting on a low, crumbling wall looking out over the lake, patiently nodding along to an old grandmother's rambling monologue while...well, they appear to be sharing tea. It's not where Quinto expected to find him, honestly, but he has no complaints about the situation. Duparis, on the other hand, could be anywhere from mildly bored to silently screaming with frustration; he's not someone a wise gambler plays against._

_The woman's speech ranges everywhere from winter's effect on the underground waterways to 'don't drink the non-blanks'. He looks up gratefully when the swordsman interrupts them and politely excuses Duparis from the one-sided conversation. The old woman gives him a suspicious glare and deems the captain 'too pretty for you, you sly dog'. Duparis laughs at the way his cheeks darken with a blush and makes a point to hang off his arm as they walk away; the woman huffs and predicts the entire thing a huge mistake._

_"If only she knew that you were the one she should have been protective of," Duparis chuckles, pulling him into a quieter side street so they can talk alone. "Isn't this place amazing? They have everything at the market, anything you can imagine. Just earlier, a lovely gentleman was helping me get fitted for a rifle in place of my left arm."_

_"Captain, I can't help but notice that your left side is distinctly...'arms'-less."_

_His shoulders shake with restrained laughter. "Is that a joke I hear from my stolid man?"_

_"A gentle pun, to soothe your sensibilities." It's a bit of a conscious effort most days, but today he manages to smile with relative ease. "Surely they must be wounded by your lack of...weaponized limbs."_

_"Ozzie caught me in the middle of measurements and dragged me away," Duparis admits as he fishes a little card from his breast pocket. He waves it around with entirely too much glee. "But I did get the man's card when she wasn't looking."_

_Quinto plucks it from his hand and tears it in half. "I'll have a word with her about her oversight later."_

_"Spoilsport." He detaches himself from Quinto's side and broods unconvincingly for the length of one entire block, all large doleful eyes, pouting mouth, and crocodile tears like only Duparis can pull off. It's something that comes naturally for him, the emoting and dramatics and energy that flusters and sometimes overwhelms Quinto. But his longtime friend knows this—has known since forever—and always makes sure he can tell that_

_'No, I'm not really upset, I promise I'm just pretending.'_

_And that's a relief to Quinto, who spent thirteen years drowning in other people's emotions on the most passionate, volatile island in the world, struggling to get even his family to keep him afloat...though they did try. Still, where the Roronoas were flames, sparks, and  wildfires, his current family is the ocean, breezes and sunbeams and salty spray. It's a change of pace._

_To his dismay, Duparis moves on to a subject that he'd been hoping to avoid for a little longer. "_ _So, how did it go? I meant to catch up with you earlier, but you know...that Granny likes to comment on everything."_

_Swallowing hard, Quinto steels himself for the aftermath and shakes his head. Wherever the hospital of legend is, it will probably remain legend. Their lead has given them nothing but a dead end. "I'm sorry, but she's not here."_

_He is struck by how young (he looks his age so suddenly) the pirate captain looks as he tries, and how he tries, to conceal his frustration and grief before Quinto. His lip trembles before he bites down on it and nods weakly._

_"I'd figured-" He catches himself as his voice cracks and starts over. "-I know, it was bound to be just another rumor. Well, I suppose it's about time to wrap up this wild goose chase, hm? Let's go round up the rest of the crew…"_

_The smile he forces onto his face is practically a mask, and Quinto doesn't know how to deal with it. So they walk on in silence in the direction of the docks, unable to do much more but allow lingering touches and looks to convey what they're feeling._

_'I was hoping so badly it was real this time,' Duparis' eyes say as he bows his head and looks away._

_'I know, captain,' Quinto replies with a brush of their fingers. 'I wanted it too.'_

_Something about the piece of conversation strikes him, and though he cannot remember what it was that made him pause, he does so in that moment and catches Duparis' arm to stop him in his tracks. They listen to the titters and chatter, eyes widening at what they manage to snatch from the hushed whispers. A group of young women duck into the side entrance of one of the buildings, leaving the empty street filled with seemingly meaningless phrases like 'underground medicine' and 'only way is through the non-blanks'._

_The captain tugs nervously at the edge of his cap, letting a few strands of hair loose from their place. "Quinto, cover for me a while?"_

* * *

_[REDACTION FOR SECURITY PURPOSES], known colloquially as the Staithe "Eater" for its devastating feeding-like nature of the victim's body, is a pathogenic disease that is believed to be the cause of a country-wide pandemic resulting in the deaths of an estimated [DATA REDACTED] of the Staithe Wharf population in the [DATES REDACTED] before the world government intervened in the tragic plight of the islanders._

_Allowing for the time constraints of the virus, its effective toxicity towards victims who had consumed any of the variations of [INFORMATION REDACTED] (though it has not been determined how nor why the mortality rates are as high as those produced by the [REDACTED]-based inoculation, with the likelihood of being even higher in some special cases), and the availability of suitable subjects for testing and examination, private and government scientists [NAMES REDACTED] were able to construct a system effective and sound enough to provide a cursory look at the virus' profile on a wide-range scale, the first step in developing a cure for the disease._

-excerpt from Breda Steilsson's  _A Brief History of Staithe Wharf's Epidemic_

History was usually left to the eccentrics, the outliers and pariahs, and all the unsavory people that the World Government wanted dead, and there weren't any of  _their_  kind on Staithe anyway, but back in the day, there had been a short period of time in which the government had been occupied in other affairs and had not foreseen the publication of an unabridged history of their involvement in the entire epidemic.

This particular history book, while practically common knowledge to the current population of Staithe Wharf's Inner Cities, was longwinded, poorly organized at points, terribly dry, and anything but brief even with half of its contents redacted for sensitive information, places, dates, and names. However, it was better than any sort of history that the rest of the world got, about a thousand times kinder than what Ohara had received, and infinitely more merciful than what Breda Steilsson was gifted. Reading through her account of the history of Jutonståithe ( _pardon, "Staithe Wharf", but there's no one to make a redaction on this extremely sensitive information, so the reader is encouraged to forget that they ever read the above_ ), one could almost suspect that it had been altered to the point where it became so disjointed and wasn't even her work anymore (and all future editions of the book had the bloodstains omitted too, for a cleaner, reader-friendly version). Of course, that was all wild, unsound speculation;  _A Brief History of Staithe Wharf's Epidemic_  was written exactly as is printed today, names, dates, and other data redacted as such.

It was also complete and utter bull.

Still, whatever Steilsson's true intentions for the book, it made for good speech practice for the lone survivor of the slaughter in the Gorgot wing, and as he paced back and forth across the surgery floor, he found that it got a little more easier to breathe as he performed his act for the two doctors on the surgery tables.  _"-and sound enough to provide a cursory look at the virus'-"_

"Keep your jaw still, get some tension around your mouth, and then bring it up from the bottom," Three muttered, feeling more and more unsure about this entire plan; it was starting to look unlikely that Sanji would even make it out the door at this point, let alone reach HQ alive. "And you should probably get off your feet for a moment."

 _"…profile on a wide-range scale, the first step in developing a cure for the disease."_  Sanji set the book down and slipped into Three's overcoat, buttoning it up with nimble fingers before turning back to the table with a frown. "If I do that, I'll never get back up, Three. I'm fine, don't worry about it."

He knew that he looked bad because Three didn't say anything at all in reply; he only kept staring at him with a heavy, worried look that made Sanji feel uncomfortably guilty and forced him to turn his attention to the lovely Five instead. She was as detached and uninterested as before, glaring when he grinned goofily at her. "How was that last part, then?"

"Awful, I'll never get your disgusting voice out of my head," she sighed in exasperation, "but I guess your pronunciation is a little better. You still can't make it, I say."

Sanji raised a hand to cut in before she could continue and, taking a deep breath that hurt far more than he let on, went over the rules for sounding like he belonged in Staithe Wharf and opened his mouth.  _"The methodologies used in the first experimental subjects were never recorded, but it is assumed that they were selected from among the island population and given full freedom of choice in their participation. Subjects could withdraw their consent completely at any point in the survey without consequence, though the percentage of those who left is in essence nonexistent."_

Three and Five raised their brows at the sudden change, but he kept going with a list of vowel sounds, local idioms and the Inner Cities vernacular, and then rattled off the entirety of rules and regulations for the HQ medical specialist team as he read them out of the booklet in Three's coat pocket.

 _"In the case of an emergency, one may have a full team of medically trained staff and doctors, but one may not be permitted to administer any kind of aid or treatment on the port._  No, that is not at all strange or contradictory. Stop asking questions; we will be forced to take further action against you. Have a good day and enjoy your visit to Staithe Wharf." Sanji laughed, cheerless and low, as he read over the sentence once again. He didn't even have to try anymore;  _List: Things That Are Horribly Wrong With This Island_ was practically writing itself. "I think I preferred the Drum Island doctor ban instead; at least they didn't annihilate entire hospitals and crews because of me."

 _No, they only terrorized a whole country and kept destroying a poor little aspiring doctor's chance at happiness._  He really couldn't find anything good about either situation and it didn't feel right to compare them, except this one seemed almost impossible to resolve.  _If Luffy were here…_ Oh, but it hurt too much to think about  _that_. He dropped the train of thought almost instantly.

Three was thrilled. "You picked that up in record time, kid. If you can keep it up, I wouldn't be surprised if you managed to fool everyone on this island and got yourself on the next ship out of here."

"…you pass," Five shrugged, but even she had to hide a smile at how quickly and naturally he got the hang of it. "You sure you weren't just pretending this whole time?"

"Never heard an accent like this one in my life," he said as he pulled his hair back and out of his face; his reflection in the mirror stared back, white as a sheet and looking like neither of them had gotten any rest in the past year. Or, you know, like he had been dead for a year, if decomposition wasn't an issue for corpses. "But thank you for the compliment, Five."

His mouth turned downward at the sight of both of his brows exposed. For whatever reason, they had always curled in the same direction for as long as he could remember, and he couldn't fathom which of his parents had landed him with them. He couldn't remember ever seeing his parents in the first place, either, which was strange and never failed to give him a headache whenever he tried to. At any rate, the eyebrows were just too distinctive to leave like this, so he took care of his identifying features in one motion, sweeping the black cloth over both his brows and hair smoothly and carefully. His hands lingered at the knot, remembering the way that Zoro tied it at the back of his head with a firm and decided air, and the deadly glint that his eyes got just as he did it.

For a moment, it was Zoro staring back at him with a confident, dangerous smirk and those dark, dark eyes that would unsettle even his own comrades when he fought, and Sanji had never felt so absolutely weak before; his breath caught in his throat as he pressed his forehead against the swordsman's, unable to see the tears glimmering in his own eyes as Zoro leaned in as well, occupying all of the space in his vision until he filled it up completely. If only he could get a second chance, a chance to start over, even if was from square one on the Baratie's dining room floor, he would have swallowed all of his own damn pride and crawled all the way back to him.  _If only, if only…_

The illusion broke.

Instead of stupid green hair peeping out from underneath the soft, well-worn material, it was his own stupid yellow hair, and it felt like broken ribs, oxygen-deprived lungs, and choking, all at once. Zoro was gone in the blink of an eye, and so was Sanji, however briefly.

He came back to his senses a second later, staring in horror at the spiderweb cracks spreading across the mirror's edge; he didn't dare pull away or look away from his reflection as blood welled up along a thin cut on his cheek. There was something in his hands, warm and wet and stinging as he braced himself against the broken glass.

His  _hands_.

From behind him, he heard Three's concerned voice but couldn't make out the question over the roaring in his ears. As discreetly as he could, Sanji brushed the slivers of glass off of his hands, not even wincing at the crisscrossing red lines that they left.

 _His_  hands.

Three's gloves covered it up well, and with the back of his gloved thumb, he wiped the trickle of blood on his cheek.

_His. Hands._

Sanji tugged at the collar of the overcoat, brought the hood up over his head, and pulled the mask over his face with stiff, mechanical movements, until all that was left in the mirror were his (own) eyes. Distant, exhausted, unrecognizable. Perfect, if only he was certain that he wouldn't fall apart first.

Three and Five watched in disbelief as he released the restraints on both of the surgery beds, stepping back as they rubbed their wrists and sat up gingerly. He smiled softly at the relief on their faces before he turned around to make for the door.

One, two, three, four, "-Five, not another step, please."

He could just imagine the expression on her face; she sounded furious. "It's our job to bring you in, but we all know that we can't do that to you. Even though you're a brainless twit, Three wouldn't want that, and I can't stand it when he gets all silent and stoic with his 'noble pain', so we're getting you off this stupid rock, got it?"

When he didn't respond, Three took a step forward and tried in a quiet voice, "you've put in an admirable effort, but you can't throw everything away like this. You understand what they'll do to you once they get their hands on you, right?"

"They'll rip whatever they want out of your body, while you're still alive and breathing, and then they are going to make sure you die." Five growled when he motioned for her to stop, and he could hear her take a couple of steps back. "What are you even trying to die for, anyway?"

What was he trying to die for, anyway? That question made him want to laugh, and he would have done it if he wasn't trying to keep himself from going hysterical. There were eight reasons, eight wonderful, brilliant, beautiful reasons that he was trying to die for, and yet he couldn't put it into words. It would have taken too long to explain, and he was running out of time.

He was amazed at how calm and steady his voice and hands were when he spoke, like his heart wasn't breaking over and over again. "Eight hours. That's all I'm asking for. I'm going to head for HQ, and I just need you to give me eight hours to do this, alright? Just sundown, and then you can do whatever you want, even if I don't reach my goal. Come after me, tell HQ everything,  _leave_  this damn island…I won't care at that point, and I guess it won't really matter anyway."

"Can't you tell us why?" Three's voice was making his resolve waver, but he wouldn't delude himself with the thought that someone cared anymore. He'd already given up.

Sanji was going to die, that much was already a guarantee, and if he somehow, by some miracle/grace/mercy that he didn't deserve, ever got to face them again, then he wanted to have an explanation (not an excuse); he wanted to tell them what they died for and why their dreams had drowned at the bottom of a godforsaken harbor in the middle of a storm. They deserved to know and he deserved their full judgment and hatred. Revenge was practically nothing compared to that.

His grip tightened. "Promise me that you are not going to leave until sundown, Three."

"…alright."

"Five?"

She took a little longer and spoke more bitterly when it was her turn. "You absolute moron, just put that down. I promise, too."

He let out a shaky breath and lowered his arm, but everyone remained rooted to the spot. Keeping his gaze locked with theirs, Sanji tucked the gun away and took a step back, then another, and they still didn't move. A weak smile spread across his face, one that no one got to see because it just didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm sorry, whatever it is that I did wrong in the first place, that it dragged you both into it. I know you hate me, and it's okay." His voice was threatening to crack, and he nearly stumbled back in his haste to cover it up. "I hate me too. Just…thank you so much for helping me anyway, even though I didn't ever give you any reason to…s-sorry, I'm so sorry."

He turned around and strode towards the open door without waiting for a reply; he didn't expect one, and they didn't give him one.

People like him didn't deserve much in the way of that, after all.

* * *

Usopp forced the door to the storage open with the last of his strength, and the outlaw pair stumbled into the room just in time to avoid the sentry guard rounding the corner at the end of the hallway. He hauled the door back into place, leaving it ajar so that the guard's shadow briefly eclipsed the thin sliver of light falling across the dirty floor as he passed on by. Creeping back to the open door, he peered out into the hallway and watched the uniformed guard disappear around the corner. They had only minutes before the next sentry walked this corridor and no plan to speak of whatsoever.

He tore through the clutter in the closet while trying to keep calm…except he was already panicking. Badly.

"Oh my God, Franky; what are we going to do?" Usopp whimpered, clutching an old wrinkled uniform to his chest. "They might try to  _kill_  us, especially after what we did."

Franky sank down with a weak cough and rested his back against the wall. He was ashen-faced and panting, but there was a huge, proud grin on his face as he pushed his limp hair back. It had cost him the entirety of his fuel and energy, and he had probably aggravated his wounds, but taking out the entire patrol in the woods last night had been so worth it. "They won't, probably," he grunted and closed his eyes tiredly. "Too stupid."

The intercom outside the room crackled to life, echoing down the empty hallways and reaching all the way back into their cramped hideaway. "Attention, all sentries and staff of the Project: there has been a breach of security in Base AAGE, Area Nine. Do not engage peace regulations. These rogues must be stopped at all costs. I repeat, former peace regulations are suspended until further notice. If spotted, neutralize them immediately; they are a threat to the peace and safety of Staithe Wharf and the Alleblått Project. Please refer to your project leader or supervisor for a detailed description of these two individuals. And remember, keep calm and persevere in the name of peace and harmony for the four Blues. That is all."

There was another wave of static sounding overhead, and then the transmission ended, taking with it the woman's soft, expressionless voice and heavy-handed message. Franky grinned wryly and looked over at Usopp, who was peeking out as much as he dared to into the corridor.

"Guess I could be wrong," he sighed, wincing as the full weight of the previous night's activities hit him. "Oi, what're you looking for, Longnose?"

"…they've got pictures of us, on posters." Usopp sounded liking he was trying not to cry. "Oh, some of them are joking about using them as target practice. Wonderful."

He was going to be of no use to the sniper in a little bit, but Franky was determined not to leave him with nothing. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he dragged himself to the mess piled up at the back of the storage room and tossed a few items at Usopp.

"Hey, what are you… Franky?" Usopp retreated back into the room and catching him just before he collapsed on the floor. "Franky? Are you okay? What the…?"

His hand came away from the back of Franky's shirt, dark and sticky and wet. "You're hurt…this is from the explosion at the harbor, you  _idiot_!  _Why didn't you say anything_?"

"Just need a second," he gasped, head reeling from the pain as it roared back to life; he felt bad that all of Ghea's hard work had been for nothing, but he couldn't keep slowing them down when they were so close to reaching the Biles. "Hold on, I'm getting up."

A few seconds later he blinked in confusion. The sniper was tapping his foot impatiently and Franky still had to crane his head to look up at him. "Did I not do it?"

The look on Usopp's face said everything. "No, Franky. You did not."

"Oh."

"This looks horrible," Usopp muttered, peeling some of his torn shirt away from the blood-soaked bandages; even in the dark he could tell that his injuries had reopened. "You need a doctor."

"No medical attention on Staithe." Franky was not about to send another person to share Ghea's fate. Not again. "Go on ahead; I'll catch up."

"You can't even stand up anymore, let alone catch up with me. Forget it, I'm going to find some help."

He moved to get up, but Franky's hand was clasped firmly around his wrist. His shoulders were shaking with the exertion and he couldn't even lift his head to speak. Still, his voice was perfectly clear and steady when he repeated his request, and Usopp found that he had no choice but to comply with it. What else could he do out here, anyway? No one on this island was willing to treat an injured person,  _even if they had the medical knowledge necessary_. And those like poor Ghea ended up arrested and carted off to who knows where because they broke the rules. Drawing in a deep breath, he carefully pried his fingers away from his arm and grabbed the first piece of clothing off the pile that Franky had thrown at him.

"You'd better not die on me in here," he grumbled, shoving the tunic over his head and slipping the heavy overcoat on. The helmet went on next (ugh, horns…really? That was  _so_  medieval and creepy), and then he searched around for something to cover up his face with. "I'll go find Sanji first, and then we're getting off this horrible island, but before that I'm going to find you the biggest cola they have on Staithe and you're gonna chug the entire thing down, so just hang in there for a while, okay?"

Franky managed a wheezing laugh. "Sounds super, Longnose. H-here…"

Usopp snatched the sunglasses out of the air with ease and furrowed his brow. "What am I supposed to call this look?"

"V-viking Pinocchio on the beach with shades."

Despite the dire situation they were in, Usopp couldn't help but to burst out laughing, catching the attention of the sentry just finishing his rounds in their corridor. "You're so stupid; just rest and try not to die, alright?"

"…you too, Usopp…"

The sentry approached the door, cautiously drawing his weapon out from its sheath and readying himself for a surprise attack. As he reached for the knob, noting that the door was ajar and seemed to have been forced open, it swung open with a thunderous boom, revealing no one but a hunched, shabby-looking figure with a decidedly long nose and…sunglasses? Indoors? "Old Man Jans?"

The old man glanced sidelong at the chaotic interior of the storage closet, and his headgear slipped sideways a bit before he nodded firmly and gave an unintelligible rumble in response. "HHMHRRMMMUMMMERMGHHH."

 _Yep, it's Old Man Jans_. With a sigh, he replaced his weapon in its case and motioned to him. "What the hell are you doing all the way in the back rooms? We don't even use this section of the base anymore. Come on, they need backup at the Biles and the Chief is going to blow a gasket again if we're late."

"RRR-RREEEHHHMM-MGHUGA-UGA. HMMERGH."

" _What?_  Ugh, nevermind."

 _That was incredibly lucky_ , Usopp thought to himself as he followed the guard down the hallway, looking back at the old storage room worriedly. He hated having to leave Franky behind; Sanji needed them, yes, but there was something that unsettled him about his crewmate's state.  _Franky, whatever you're hiding, I hope you realize that it won't kill you to let me know. You don't have to go it alone._

No matter how much he tried, Usopp couldn't get the image of Franky on his knees before Anwhe, a stricken, deadened expression on his face and looking completely and utterly defeated.  _Please, don't go it alone._

* * *

Sanji stepped over the debris and smashed stone that was all that remained of the Biles' main entrance; timber and wood splintered underneath his stolen boots with a loud crack as he turned around to look at the building (once a grand, towering chateau hidden perfectly in the woods) and realized that he had seen this place before.  _When I came in? No, I'm not sure I was even conscious at that point anymore_. He dug deep into his memory long enough to fetch a name— _Chantephine Estates_ —before a throbbing headache forced him to give up. His memory had always been a fickle thing prior to his being picked up by the Orbit, and when the stuff that he felt he really should have been able to remember (his birthday, whether he had any living relatives or not, exactly what  _was_  the reason his caretakers at the thirteen orphanages had given him for his abandonment) came up blank, he just blamed his first caregiver and moved on.

_Madame was a harsh (yet completely loving, of course!) mistress._

It was the architecture that was familiar, all large, curving forms, scrolls, and shapes and complicated, asymmetrical designs that contrasted splendidly against the dark, deep woods around them with its pale, airy colors. This was not what he had been expecting of a place called "The Biles"; its beauty and lavishness seemed out of place on an island like Staithe Wharf.

As he was trying to put his finger on just what was wrong with the picture (besides the obvious destruction and chaos left behind by the Hounds), several members of the Border Guard shoved past him, and the movement sent a spasm of pain across his recently closed wound. Gritting his teeth and fighting back startled tears, Sanji rounded on them and yelled, "What the fucking hell-?"

"Out of the way, you dullard," one of them snapped; the others didn't even look back at him and pretended they hadn't heard him, which just irked his temper even more. The last one, however, glanced back quickly and gave him the most apologetic series of grumbles he had ever heard (was he wearing a metal helmet and sunglasses?) before rushing away. "MMMRHREGUR-WAKA-WAKA-UGA-UGA."

Sanji stared after him quietly and took a hesitant step forward; something seemed vaguely familiar about that one, but before he could call the guard back, there were several hands on his back and shoulders steadying him and leading him away.

It was the rest of the HQ medics, each with a number on their left sleeve and lapel. All he could see of them were their eyes, but for some reason they seemed concerned. "Are you alright? Those drooling barbarians…are those fucking eyes on your face for decoration or what!  _Anwhe's sake_ , what morons!"

_"Piss off, lab rats!"_

_"Fish bait! Dog food! Cannon fodder!"_

Twelve folded his arms over his chest and scowled. "I hate those guys. Did they hurt you, Three?"

"…I'm fine," Sanji mumbled, struggling to remember what Three and Five had crammed into his mind before he left them in the surgery floor of the hospital. "Thank you, you didn't have to."

"Hey, we have to stick together against the Ass Masses, remember?" Ten threw an arm around his shoulders and he nearly melted at her touch. "If everything ends up going to hell out here, they're the first ones to throw us to the wolves...erm, the Hounds. And I wouldn't want them to do that to such a cutie patootie like you, Three."

He had died; he was dead, deceased, had left this world, kicked the bucket, was pushing daisies, gone to a better place…there was no other explanation for this. Having Ten, Fourteen, and Two hanging off his arms was everything he had dreamed of and more, and that wasn't even his ultimate goal in life.  _Girls_ , smiling over him and touching him and being girls around him, and they wanted  _him_  (technically, they wanted Three, but that was just a minor detail). It was enough to make him swoon, but he remembered that he had to be Three, not Sanji, and Three did not swoon over girls…did he?

While he was trying to figure out how he was supposed to pass as an entirely different person, one who was presumably already well acquainted with this group of people, the image of Five holding her bruised cheek came to his mind, and it turned his stomach horribly. He didn't deserve this.

"Thank you, but the concern is unnecessary," he choked when Two's hands began to slink down towards his belt. Oh  _no_. That was a do-not-want moment. "Let's just go, please. This whole fiasco is giving me a headache."

They sighed and pulled away reluctantly, but Fourteen didn't hesitate to give his behind a good slap before she strode off towards the boats at the river. Sanji didn't even have the capacity in his mind to formulate a proper reaction to that; he just gaped at a fixed point somewhere at the treeline and tried not to squeak in horror. With an amused chuckle, Twelve and Nineteen came up behind him and began to lead him towards the docks, shaking their heads at what they thought was just feigned shock.

"You must have really been in the mood just now, you rascal," Twelve grinned, clambering up to the first boat with Nineteen behind him. "Didn't catch yourself until Two was making to undress you out in the open, huh?"

"Th-that's not it…" Nineteen interrupted him before he could continue stammering his way through an explanation for why it had gotten to that point.

"Hey, are you sure you're alright? The girls respect our boundaries when we make it clear to them, and vice versa, but right now you looked completely lost; I was afraid it was getting sketchy for a moment."

"I'm not…myself today," he shrugged, left feeling acutely aware of just how inexperienced and childish he had always been. The last thing he wanted was to cause another problematic situation because he hadn't figured out he had to  _consent_  to that treatment. Briefly, he wondered if he had ever made a woman feel that way with his persistent flirting. Oh, that thought was just  _lovely_.

_I start my day off my smashing my foot into Five's head, then I have a dubious sexually charged encounter with three strangers…I just keep finding all new levels to my shittiness._

"Can we just get to the actual hell part or have I already got that covered?" he asked himself in a low voice, ignoring the strange looks that the others gave him. Climbing carefully onto the boat, he took one last look at the Biles as they pulled away from the dock and watched the sun rise higher in the sky, taking with it his promised eight hours of hell.  _I've been nothing but useless and horrible, but there has to be a reason I survived. If there isn't, then I'll make one. I can't live with myself if I don't._

The boat glided smoothly into the underground tunnel, and he lost sight of the sun at that point.

* * *

Asking outright where HQ and the people responsible for his crew's death were to be found was a course of action that only certain special individuals would choose to take, and Sanji was not one of them. For starters, he had no idea what he was up against, besides what he had learned from waking up to the bloodbath in the Biles this morning: they were ruthless, heavy-handed, and from what Three and Five told him, they had a certain interest in finding a "skeleton key" for some kind of undisclosed project of theirs (the two medics only had partial knowledge of their part in this scheme, which was to find the right type of blood to unlock particular genetic sequences they had been given).

He honestly got lost trying to follow their lecture with all of the medical terminology and jargon that they used. So, Sanji tried to keep it all in simpler terms that he could understand: HQ had these "locks" and they needed a special "key" to "unlock" them, and they had reason to believe that the "key" lay inside of him, possibly. The fact that he wasn't dead yet was apparently good enough for them.

It had something to do with the virus, which the Dockmaster first said had killed a large part of Staithe Wharf's original population, but Five told him that everything on the port was just a front for the island's real purpose. They couldn't just ask for volunteers to give up their lives in order to further the project, so they peddled a "vaccine" in order to sort out those who had a higher chance of fitting the right profile for the project—people who had origins in North Blue.  _The original project started there_ , Three said thoughtfully,  _and it makes sense that the key also lies in that ocean, but the entire region is under strict protection by martial law nowadays, after an incident that occurred twenty years ago._

Admiral Normandeau was apparently also a harsh master (but still out of love for his people, maybe!).

Sanji mulled all of this information over in his head as he subtly rifled through the files in Base AAGE's records room, keeping an eye out for the rest of Team Medic, whom he had managed to lose on the way to the base's commons to eat. They wouldn't accept that he just wasn't hungry and had almost frog-hopped him all the way there. Luckily, Nineteen had stepped in for him and allowed him a chance to escape. Perhaps his intention wasn't to give an intruder time to infiltrate their headquarters, but Sanji appreciated the gesture all the same.

He didn't know what exactly it was that he was looking for, but he hoped that something around this base would give him a clue, or a sign that he could use to his advantage. The purpose for this elaborate scheme would be a good start; just what  _was_  HQ trying to unlock?

 _"Peace for the four Blues,"_  he read in a bored voice off one of the employee manuals and rolled his eyes at the noble, righteous tone of the entire thing. "Right, because pacifists go around releasing wild animals on their opponents and plan a complicated way of selecting their victims…I mean 'allies'. Shit, what does this all mean?"

He threw the papers onto the table in disgust and frustration and sank into one of the chairs in the office wearily. Robin would have loved to be given the opportunity to piece together a puzzle of this magnitude, and Nami had the cleverness to tackle it, too. Luffy would have just barreled through the place screaming at people to tell him where HQ was, while Usopp, Chopper, and Brook would have been content to follow whomever was more liable not to get them all killed. Franky would probably help with the screaming and the barreling, and Zoro would only get lost in this maze of a base, showing up just in time to take down the second strongest opponent before his midday nap. And Sanji…

Well, he usually took his cue from the rest of them, whatever they needed. Without them, he had no idea what he was supposed to do anymore. What was the point?  _They're all dead anyway, and no amount of sleuthing, sabotaging, and fighting will ever get them back._ He had a horrible impulse just then, angry and reckless and blinding, and he shoved the desk away from him with all of his strength. The crash echoed in the empty room with his ragged cry; he felt neither better nor worse after the act, only emptier.

And then, there was a hesitant smile tugging at his lips under the mask, because maybe there was a point to Luffy's blind rages after all. Slowly, pushing the overturned boxes and files strewn across the ground away with his foot, he walked closer to the huge stone slab fitted almost perfectly to the rest of the floor. Almost, but not quite.

He had to take off his gloves in order to do it, but bit by bit, crevice by crevice, he began to move the covering off of the hole in the floor, and he eased the rest of it away with his legs as he swung them into the gap.  _Let's see how deep the rabbit hole goes._

The drop was fairly short but uncomfortable for someone who was trying to recover from surgery, and it reminded him of his precarious state. While he leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath, a group of people cloaked from head to toe like him walked right past his hiding place, only a few steps away.

One of the things he was trying to avoid was contact with anyone in the base. If they figured him out, or caught him or forced him into a fight, then he was done. He could barely move without the pain reminding him that yes, it was still there and upset that it was being ignored. His one chance at making it was to keep moving and hopefully spare everyone else their lives. He had already dragged enough people to their deaths, anyway.  _Whatever is at the end of this shithole had better be the goddamned One Piece or something, for all the trouble it's caused,_  he thought bitterly, peering into one of the rooms in the hall he was exploring; all of them had been empty so far, although he had found a strange noise echoing in all of them, like a receding tide on the beach. The ground became wet and slippery as he walked on, and at some point there were gouges in the wall, like something had been clawing at it. All of that was unsettling enough, but then he reached the cages.

Sanji covered his mouth; the words were everywhere on the walls, painted in bright, stark colors that might have even included blood, once. The last words of the victims who met their end in this place.

Hounds. Sea Dogs. Nightmare. Death.

He might have dropped something on the way back out, but his heart was pounding too hard for him to even think about going back. Clambering back up into the records room, Sanji heaved the stone into place and sat down on the floor next to it, shaking from head to foot.  _Maybe…I don't want to find out what they want, after all. They wanted to feed me to those things, didn't they?_  Three's suggestion that he abandon the island was starting to sound really, really good.

After a long time, he trusted himself to get back on his feet and abandon the records room entirely, deciding that a trip down to the commons for some human company would be just fine right now.

"Hey, where have you been, amigo?" Twelve greeted him like an old friend (which he reminded himself was a possibility, as he had no idea what Three's relationship with the other Medics was) and slung an arm around his shoulders. "Did you change your mind about the food?"

"Something like that," Sanji muttered, thinking about how much he didn't want to end up as dogfood for the Hounds.

"Great, you're gonna love this new-fangled thing; have you ever tried braised…um, friend, you're kind of…leaving yourself over there."

Sanji glanced back at the splatters of blood behind him, trailing all the way back to the records room.  _Shit, shit, oh **shit**_. He rubbed his neck in what he hoped was a sheepish manner and laughed nervously. "Oh, darn. Not again?"

Twelve waved it off and handed him a towel, which he had drawn seemingly out of thin air. "No problem, it happens to the best of us, Three. Why, the other day I misplaced my big toe. Again? you'll say; yes, again. Reattached it with that really sticky paper paste...not the one with the glitter."

He almost choked on his own saliva. "…we're  _doctors_ , Twelve."

"Ha, yeah, but you wanna live, right? No actual doctoring allowed on the island, after all."

"…good to see you've been keeping up with the rulebook, Twelve." Sanji gave his shoulder a playful punch and hoped that his fumble wouldn't be too noticeable. The rules, the rules of Staithe were  _crucial_  to his survival, and that one was probably the most important of them. "Gotta keep you on your toes, huh?"

Twelve grinned and opened up the door for him. "Damn straight. After you, amigo."

Sanji took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself to masquerade as Three in front of the entire team again (and he hoped to God that Ten, Fourteen, and Two were in a forgiving, less clingy mood right now); he surprised himself when he actually found himself looking forward to spending time with them. It distracted him from the emptiness that life without the Strawhats had left in his chest, and under different circumstances he entertained the thought of actually wanting to become friends with them. He spotted them at the end of the commons, where they were lounging around near the kitchens, and with an anxious smile he made to join them for a while.

That was, until his stomach decided to turn itself inside out at that very moment.

* * *

Sanji doubled over and gave another horrible retch, spitting up saliva and blood over the basin and generally trying to get his sickness under control before anyone heard him. Sweat beaded on his brow and rolled down his face in rivers; his fever had spiked again and he was already trembling violently all over. His vision was blurring and drifting in and out of focus no matter what he tried, and he might have blacked out a few times before the pain came thundering back in, blossoming across his stomach and sinking deep inside of him. A vague, familiar twinge ached at his back, a reminder of his injury on Drum Island. It had been such a long time ago, but situations like this never failed to exacerbate the old pain. This time, however, it seemed to seep in from his abdomen and curl up around the base of his spine.

He leaned against the wall of the closet just outside the commons and closed his eyes, feeling drained and getting weaker by the second. There was no way he was even going to be able to take another step, let alone make it to HQ.

 _Eight hours_ , he reminded himself, but his body refused to listen to him anymore. Unable to force himself to do anything more, he rested his arm over his stomach gingerly, wishing that he hadn't been left with such a huge hindrance in this game.  _It hurts so much…is this really as far as I'm going to be able to go?_

Resting his eyes briefly, he thought of the bitter disappointment and despair at failing to reach his goals against HQ. And then, there was the shift.

He sat up in a fright, pressing his hands over the bandages around his middle in a desperate attempt to find that this was just his imagination, his tired mind playing tricks on him, that this was  _not real_. Sanji lifted his shirt and followed the movement with trembling fingers. He held his breath in horror as it happened again, and again. It was right there, a faint shudder that sent a ripple of pain through him, gliding under his ribs and against the wound in his stomach.

There was something  _inside_  of him.

* * *

_Though the J1-SK6 has since been formulated into a convenient, deadly injection that the Jutonståithe government has been administering as a means of identifying and isolating potential candidates for an unknown project only referred to as Alleblått, it is primarily a naturally occurring disease that had potential in biological warfare¹._

_What was first believed to be a type of bacterial infection first brought to the island by displaced peoples from Vonefjøen, North Blue in fact originated on the island itself, carried by parasitic organisms found in the network of underground streams embedded in the bedrock. Until as of late the species was thought to be self contained in the water; an unusual yet unfounded hypothesis that it can survive outside its original aquatic environment and its host's body was developed by Malakmher Ctena though this theory failed to gain popularity among the scientific community._

_[…]_

_¹ J1-SK6's historical use as a weapon against humans can be traced back to Jutonståithe's beginning when the entire population was wiped out by a now-defunct branch of the World Government in an attempt to control and punish them._

-excerpt from the unedited manuscript of Breda Steilsson's  _Eaters of Men: The Truth behind the J1-SK6 Virus_

* * *

_"…hm, you're upset, Quinto." His finger runs a single hoop along the rim of the glass, lightly wiping the foam at the top of the drink, for once not rushing to get completely inebriated before last call. "Speak up or drop the surly demeanor. It doesn't suit you."_

_Quinto's gaze is dark and fuming as he watches his captain turns a cool, careful smile towards him. None of this is right (not this cursed island, not this balmy, humid evening on the lake, not this wretched moment), and he hates that Duparis is pretending that this is anything but a horrible mistake._

_"Captain, I've always respected and backed every one of your decisions without question, regardless of how little thought you placed into them…but this, I-I can't. This goes beyond thoughtlessness; this is barefaced stupidity."_

_Duparis gives a slight chuckle and turns his drink in his white-knuckled hands, staring into the amber-pale liquid swirling around in the non-blank glass. "Doesn't that feel better, now? I like it when you're honest with me; the silent treatment coming from you just gives me the jumps, you know. Shall we-?"_

_"Don't do this."_

_They are surrounded by the warm chatter and light of the old pub, but neither of them have ever felt so isolated and cold before._

_"…I have to." For a moment, he can see the other Duparis, the wide-eyed, lonely little stray of a child who threw away a name for treasure, who buried his old self so he could slay villains and save damsels in distress, who was caught up in something so huge that even grown men were left blinded by the sheer terror of it. Then the Gentleman is back and gleaming with a shrewd smile and genteel eyes. "I gave up too much not to, Quinto."_

_But how much more would he be forced to give up before it destroyed him?_

_Quinto finds it hard to understand the Captain's goals, but he also knows that he would follow him anywhere he led the crew, and so he makes himself yield to this dangerous plan, just like he always would. He would give his own life for him, and it hurts that he cannot do anything but watch from the sidelines this time, but for Duparis, he has learned to turn a blind eye to his own feelings. Captain always comes first, after all._

_He glances down at his own empty drink (his "blank") and manages a smile, however weak and strained. "Do what you want, but just remember that the crew and I are going to keep you tethered to this world, no matter how much you beg for death, understood?"_

_Duparis actually laughs this time, and Quinto cannot help but feel his spirits lift for a moment. "A gentleman never begs, my good man."_

_"Fine, request. Inquire after. Whatever." Quinto is smiling wide now as the captain puts on a haughty air and "respectfully inquires after that good old chap Mr. Death, if you don't mind". The rest join in with the usual antics, and Quinto is forced to be the responsible adult (once again) and reminds them with some reluctance of the task at hand. It sobers them up quickly, but the captain simply raises his glass with a light smirk and calls for a spur-of-the-moment toast (to ghost cultures and mass destruction, to historically accurate lies and legends, to little girls being spirited away from their homes by mysterious organizations, to Death)._

_"Bottoms up," Duparis mutters without hesitation and throws back his non-blank; the crew follows suit with their blanks, and when the glasses are all set back on the counter, the captain's glass is as empty and innocuous as the others._

_Of course there is no trace of any parasite…none that would be visible at the bottom of the glass. What would be the fun in a game like that? No, this is a game of waiting for conclusions and resolutions, of not knowing whether life or death is the end-all of the drink._

_They call for another round, and Duparis tries his luck again, and again, and they have no idea whether his "non-blanks" happen to be contaminated but the captain leaves nothing to chance, not really. He throws back glass after glass in good spirits, and they are good spirits, he laughs at the unintentional play on words._

_He's long since stopped buying his own drinks; he's turned to wheedling and coaxing them out of his crowds, newcomers and companions and passing friends. If he plays the unsteady drunk hanging off a handsome stranger's arm, it's only to have another shot, another glass, and a little bit of fun before the night is over._

_He catches Quinto's eye from across the room, and with a playful wink, he raises his glass in another toast._

_Good spirits, truly._

* * *

"You  _promised_ , Three."

"Well, I lied. There, are you happy?"

" _No!_  Three, how can you disrespect his wishes? Dingdong may be nothing but a dingdong, but he still deserves some kind of dignity. What about his crew's revenge and his honor?"

"Five, do you even hear yourself talking? His damned crew is gone; no amount of revenge is going to matter to a bunch of waterlogged corpses. And honor? Dignity? Do you really think that's what he wants?"

"Yes, because I listen to what people ask me and I make my decisions based on that. What do you think he wants, Three?"

"Just take one look at that boy and realize that what he wants is to make sense out of everything that has happened to him; what he needs isn't honor or revenge, he needs a goddamned friend to hold him together while he grieves."

"…and are you going to be that friend, Three?" Five frowned at him and crossed her arms sullenly, trying to keep her breathing even. She hadn't meant to blow up at Three; she was just trying to look after the two of them. With Staithe going to shit recently, even moreso than usual, she found herself wondering if either of them would even survive another day. "What if he doesn't want that?"

Three shook his head slowly and shrugged. "I don't know, but I have to try. Maybe I can't help him medically, because everyone's a coward in the end and no one wants to die on this cursed island…but there's more than physical healing, you know."

Five gave him a dry, amused smile. "You are such a sap, man. Come on, I guess I have no choice but to help you out on your little friendship crusade. Maybe he hasn't-"

She found herself staring at yet another long-range weapon, trained straight at her and her partner, who had stiffened and fallen back defensively. Neither of them were fighters, and this was getting really tiresome already. "Really? Oi, Border guard, we're from HQ, you blind moron!"

The guard didn't lower his weapon, a strange, exceptional type of design that she had never seen before. He removed his helmet (it was too big for him anyway) and tossed it at the ground, where it rolled to a stop at Three's feet. "Oi…where is he?"

"What?" Three had never seen the Border guards without their horned helmets on, but this one seemed rather young, even considering the wide range of ages among all of the Project's personnel. "What the hell are you talking about? Five!"

Five had already moved, snatching up a scalpel from the surgery table and throwing it with a frightening aim (as in, he was surprised it had even found its target), and the guard stumbled as it grazed his leg before clattering to the ground.

The next thing Three knew, he was on the ground and clutching his arm as fiery pain shot up and down the length of it; whatever had been in that bullet hurt like hell, and he couldn't figure out if it was poison or something. Five didn't seem to care either way. If looks could kill, the Border guard who wasn't a border guard would have been dead by now. "You bastard…"

The young man had another shot already loaded and fixed on them; though his brown eyes were wide with fear behind the sunglasses, his mouth was set in a firm, thin line. "I asked a question: where is your target? Where is Black Leg Sanji?"

Three would have sat straight up if the pain in his arm and his fear of being shot at again didn't keep him from moving. "What did you just say?"

"L-look, I don't want to do this, I just want my friend back. So, please… _tell me what the hell you've done with Sanji!"_


	17. No Guts, No Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usopp learns just how infuriatingly close he was to finding Sanji, while the infected cook deals with one of the sources of all of his woes; back on Staithe of twenty years ago, Duparis has a gamble with Death and a duel to the death and loses both badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting twenty years to reach this part of the story (okay, so maybe I only started writing it in December, but symbolically it's been decades). I hope there is something to amuse you in here, between all the dark, depressing stuff and horror themes. Thank you if you're still reading this, and if not, thank you anyway. I really appreciate you sticking with this story.

Usopp was amazed that his arm remained steady and locked in position; inside his chest, his heart was thumping a furiously terrified beat to the point where he thought his entire body was vibrating. He had been hoping to have his friends at his side when he actually had to confront the enemy, but he would just have to stand alone this time. If it meant that he could see Sanji again soon, then he would brave as many desolate hospitals filled with corpses and blood as he had to, and he would attack as many people as would stand in his path.  _Just like Water 7, I can't afford to be useless. Not again, not for my friends._

The man he had just shot down held up both arms peaceably and began to talk, giving Usopp more information than he had been expecting. He wasn't wearing one of the two different uniforms that the Border guards and the other group of (possibly) doctors had, but his companion was, and she had attacked him first. That he hit the wrong enemy was simply a result of having an actual  _scalpel_  thrown at his leg, so he didn't feel like he was at fault here. At least the slingshot assault had loosened the man's tongue, though he really felt bad about having to attack him in the first place.

"So, he's alive?" Usopp croaked, lowering his arm the slightest amount and feeling like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders; he could have dropped to the floor with tears of relief at the news, but there was still the matter of getting to Sanji first. "You're not just messing with me; he's actually breathing and in one piece and  _walking around_?"

"Wearing Three's uniform and trying to infiltrate HQ alone with roughly an hour's practice at talking without his obnoxious accent, but yeah, pretty much. Whoa, are you crying too?" The woman, Five, gave a sigh and nodded her head at the nearly empty tissue box lying on the rim of the blood-splattered sink. "Try not to touch the many biohazards that Dingdong left, okay?"

Muttering a quick thanks, he decided not to chance the tissues and wiped his nose with the end of his sleeve. Usopp couldn't help it; the past two days had been nothing but a haze of enemy ambushes, unsettling mysteries, and wondering if their friend was even still alive. "I-I'm so relieved. Everyone's gonna go crazy at the news-"

"Wait,  _everyone_?" Three's unmasked face went pale and, completely ignoring the flinch that Usopp gave at his sudden movements, struggled to his feet and grabbed Five's arm frantically. "Dammit, we have to stop him, Five; he's going to get himself killed for no reason!"

His giant slingshot was raised and pointed at them within the span of a second, and Usopp's eyes had narrowed dangerously. "What's that supposed to mean? Why the hell would you let him do that?"

"Does it matter? We don't have time!" Three said in frustration at the same time that Five cried out, "Can I  _please_  stop having dangerous weapons pointed at me?"

"There is always time for an explanation," he growled, pulling the band on his slingshot just a centimeter more, any further and he ran the risk of breaking it permanently. "Start talking fast; I'm not going to hold this position all day."

"Okay, okay," Three stammered as Five moved to shield him from Usopp's aim. She may not have liked being threatened by desperate rogues masquerading as Border guards (whom she  _hated_ ) but she would rather be the one taking the fall for him instead. "To put it shortly, he's headed straight for Base AAGE and if you were headed up from the same place at the river, then you probably just missed him without even knowing it."

Usopp frowned and lowered his weapon, running the past half an hour through his mind again. "What do you mean I probably just missed him? Was he…you've got to be kidding me;  _I bumped shoulders with him!_ "

"If he managed to give you the slip, then I wouldn't put it past him to have HQ with a scalpel in their throats before they even knew what hit them, if that's what he really wanted."

Five rubbed her eyes tiredly and nodded. "He was pretty devastated when he woke up, thinks that by sacrificing himself to stop HQ he can make it all up to you guys. If they capture him, I don't think he's going to try to fight back."

"We were just heading after him ourselves," Three mumbled weakly. "It's one thing to have 'retrieve skeleton key' drilled into you; it's another to see the results of your own years of research and work manifested into a single person who's really hurting. That was never supposed to be part of the plan."

 _He must think we abandoned him_ , Usopp thought with a sinking feeling in his stomach.  _I have to find him before he goes any further._ He motioned at the corpses in the hallway with a nod of his head. "And this?"

"The Hounds' handiwork."

"I heard the other guards talking about the Hounds…monsters that know nothing but killing. They don't even eat their victims." Usopp gave an unsubtle shudder and glanced around the room quickly. "Please tell me they're gone."

Five nodded grimly. "Probably stuffed back into their cages underground. Be glad you weren't on the squad assigned to force them in; the Border guards always, always have horrific casualties when the Hounds are set loose."

The sniper sent a silent, pleading mutter skyward and hoped that someone up there (God, fate, or even  _Enel)_ was listening and in a good mood towards him.  _Please don't let these crazy people set their dogs on us; I'm begging here._  "Sounds like a thrill."

"That's an understatement," she scoffed and turned to Three. "Should we try to see if we can get a boat back down? Maybe there's still someone from the med team on the surface."

"No, if I show up, that will blow Sanji's disguise immediately." Three gestured down at his disheveled state; the only things that remained of his uniform were his pants and undershirt. "Right now, he's Three, and that's possibly the only way that we'll get him out of Base AAGE alive. The river, the med team, and the boats are all out of the question."

"How do you expect us to get back, then? The underground caverns are the only way into the base!" Five noticed the face that Usopp made and pointed furiously at him. "See, even Sunglasses over here gets it, and he doesn't even go here!"

Usopp scratched the back of his head and winced at the glower that Three gave him. "Actually, I was just remembering a tower that Franky and I passed on the way here. We thought it was the Biles, but before we got swept up and confused by the Border guards chasing us last night, we realized that it was just a doorway leading somewhere…maybe the base?"

"Impossible, the base is completely underground," Three shook his head vehemently; he had the base's layout memorized and there was no way that he would miss an entire  _tower_  if it actually existed. "If there was an entrance above ground, we would have-"

"Actually, that's where you're wrong, my dear."

The three of them whirled around to find one of the most terrifying sights waiting for them in the doorway of Surgery Five. Usopp dropped his weapon wordlessly, and Five all but screamed her head off when she recognized who it was.  _"Y-you…you were dead!"_

Only Three remained perfectly still and calm, even though it looked like he was practically catatonic at the sight of the previously mauled woman propped up against the door. "D-director…?"

A bloodstained hand came up to brush back the small, tight curls that had fallen out of her braids, overflowing and mussed. She managed to give them all a taut smile, but her eyes never left Three's face.

"Hello, Three," the Director said with a labored breath. "It's been a while."

* * *

He didn't know how he got himself on his feet and out of the closet, but at some point he must have cried out for one of the others because he distinctly remembered Two's arm around him and Nineteen clearing the hallway ahead of them as they helped him back to their shared living quarters on the base. Regardless, most of the time he was just managing not to blow his cover by ripping his disguise off and holding back screams of pain at every hesitant step he took.

The walk to hell was starting to look a lot less feasible than he had imagined.

"From what you're describing," Twelve said nonchalantly, holding the door open for the rest of the group as they escorted an agonizing Sanji into the room, "all of your symptoms are leading to one very odd conclusion. Tell me, friend; are you sure that you're all…you know, is there something you haven't told us, identity-wise?"

Seeing Sanji's lost expression, the man shrugged his shoulders and closed the door behind them, throwing himself down on one of the armchairs arranged neatly near the right side of the room. "We won't judge you if you aren't, Three; your gender identity is your own business. It's just that I always assumed you were a man, but that's probably disrespectful if you aren't, huh? You look confused; maybe you're not really certain if your parts are-"

"Of course I'm certain that I've got male parts; I've had goddamn testicle and prostate exams courtesy of a reindeer!" he all but shrieked, earning himself more that a few odd looks from the other medics ("He's delirious," Fourteen winced, "it must be the fever."). "I have never been more certain of anything in my life!"

"Really? Hm, my theory that you're in labor isn't going to hold water, then…you haven't had any water breakage or leaking, right?"

Sanji couldn't believe what he was hearing, and so he pretended that he hadn't heard Twelve at all. Instead, he pressed his forehead against the wall and debated the pros and cons of sticking his head through the panels again on Zoro's behalf. "When I said I was headed towards hell, this was not what I'd had in mind," he muttered to himself, bracing himself for the next wave of pain and biting back a groan when it hit him harder than he had been expecting. "It hurts so much…"

Ten was rubbing circles on his back and fussing worriedly over him. "Poor baby…maybe it's food poisoning? Those fish cakes in the common's canteen looked questionable to me, guys."

"He didn't eat with us, dear," Two reminded her and leafed briefly through some texts lying around on the coffee table in the sitting area, though there was a definite hint of worry in her green eyes. "Besides, some of these symptoms seem familiar to me. Three, didn't you mention this had come up in your research before?"

It took Sanji a moment to remember that he was supposed to be Three. "Research…right, the research I mentioned before, the research that I, Three, was working on, my afore-mentioned research…that research?"

She was giving him a scrutinizing frown, but she didn't seem to realize he was fishing around for more information. "Yes…the research on the connection between the virus and the extinct parasites. You even told me about the…wait, you didn't actually test the live specimen on yourself, did you?"

Sanji guessed from her movement which desk belonged to Three and, with energy he didn't know he still had, lunged for it before she could even take a single step. There was a key in Three's coat pocket that he had been waiting for the chance to use, and this research of his seemed like the likely opportunity. Private research meant certain security measures, right? Something like that probably had a lock or two somewhere.

"O-of course I didn't," he grunted, fumbling with the key before figuring out that the desk drawer wasn't even locked.  _So much for that…oh, what's this?_  Underneath the heavy medical tomes and papers, Sanji found a thin black case tucked away with a small silver lock, and it looked like the match for his key. Opening it quickly and keeping everyone's view of the drawer obstructed, he wasn't surprised to find that the parasite specimen was still in there; of course Three wouldn't actually put the thing into himself, though Two and the others didn't have to know that.

Two grabbed the box just as he slipped the tiny clear vial into his sleeve and closed his eyes at her horrified gasp. "Three, you didn't…why on earth would you even think this was a good idea?"

"F-for sci-iiiience," he gasped and doubled over as the pain began to catch up with him again. God, he was  _not_  in any condition to be moving like that. What he wouldn't give for some respite from this hell, even for just a few seconds. "Give me back my papers, please?"

"Why, so you can describe to everyone your excruciating death in detail before they're all forced to watch it firsthand?" Two threw the box on the desk and stalked away towards the armchairs, dropping into the one opposite of Twelve before fixing a glare on him. "Go ahead, but don't expect me to stick around for the end, you ass."

She was upset, understandably, and while Sanji was a man who did everything in his power to make a woman  _not_  upset, he was also the type who knew when to focus on the task at hand (most of the time). His ever-insistent condition didn't allow him to get distracted, anyway, and so he skimmed through the pages of Three's work and tried to make sense of what was happening in his body.

"Elevation of body temperature above normal range, contractions of the abdominal walls, general discomfort, especially in the lower abdomen and back. Hm, it's missing something." He rummaged for a pen before marking up the page with his new additions. "…sense of impending doom and  _excruciating_  discomfort, like being stabbed in the stomach, back, and the stomach with a cheese knife. That's better."

Nineteen gave a low whistle and shook his head. "I knew you were really dedicated to your mentor's research, but this takes the cake."

Sanji gagged around his index finger for a full minute before he gave up on that method. "I'm trying to vomit here…but that sounds really good right now, to be honest."

"That is hardcore, amigo," Twelve laughed nervously, edging his armchair away from Sanji. "Just…don't go using me as a guinea pig, okay?"

Two seemed to figure out what he was trying to do with all of the triggering of his gag reflex. His final solution to the problem of the parasite in his body was anything but safe, one last-ditch attempt at getting some control of his life again. Swallowing toxic substances was definitely not something he would do lightly, but enough was enough; he wanted the pain to end. "Three, do  _not_ -"

The door slammed open.

"What the hell is going on-?" Franky blanched at the horrific noises coming from the figure hunched over a box in the corner and backed out of the room quietly before continuing on his way.  _Yeah, I'm not touching that one._   _Even the doctors in this place can't take care of themselves._

Sanji had never felt such relief at being able to vomit; it was like a release from all of the pain of the past few days all at once, and it was pure ecstasy. The shipwright's voice only registered in his mind moments later, while he was riding out his euphoric high.

"Franky?" He glanced over his shoulder weakly, only to find nothing but the door shut firmly at the end of the room.  _I was just imagining it, huh?_

Two was absolutely beside herself with anger.  _"Have you lost your mind?"_

"No, I lost my lunch," he sighed blissfully and brought the mask back up to cover his mouth and nose, trying to ignore the sting of disappointment after realizing that he had hallucinated his friend's voice. The sudden absence of physical pain helped, and he accidentally dozed off somewhere in the middle of the aftermath. It was Two's concerned voice that roused him as they were getting him onto a bed (his bed, maybe).

"Three, darling, let's get this stuff off so you can get comfortable, and then I promise you can sleep," he heard her mutter, and only by sheer will was he able to lift his hands up to protect his mask and keep her from pulling it off. "I'm sorry for getting angry at you, just let me take care of you, okay?"

Three had to realize how lucky he was, or Sanji was liable to kick his face in for not appreciating a lovely, caring woman like Two. It was painfully obvious how much everyone on the team cared about each other, but her affection for Three was somehow different in a way that Sanji had never experienced before.  _Lucky man, that bastard. Lucky man._

"It's okay," he found himself saying, struggling to sit up and move away from her sweet, tender touch ( _she's wonderful_ , he sighed wistfully). "I'm practically on cloud nine; thank you. Don't worry about me-"

She breathed in deeply and took in his haggard appearance. "I don't care about the medical ban; you need something for the fever and dehydration, at the very least."

When Two came back with a glass of water and some antipyretics, she found everyone gathered around the parasite box, watching Sanji crouch next to it with a manic gleam in his eyes and a cigarette lighter cradled lovingly in his hands. "Oh God, you're setting your research on fire, you  _idiot_."

Still, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth; if he was feeling well enough to be up and about so soon, then she had no doubt he would be just fine.

"Fires of brimstone, fires of hell," he repeated like a mantra over the dancing flames in the box, cursing the shitty parasite's very existence and unsought entry into his body.  _Now_  this was starting to feel more like hell.  _Fire and monsters, always a fitting combination._

When there was nothing left of the parasite but the glowing embers on the floorboards, he raised a triumphant fist over his head, and the others followed suit grimly.  _Victory over one enemy, check._

Then, Ten gave him a good thump over the head and huffed, "that was our scrapbooking kit, you jerk."

* * *

_'Quinto…was decidedly right.'_

_Then again, Quinto usually is._

_Right, that is._

_Revision: Quinto is always right and Duparis is nothing but his poor stooge of a captain._

_It goes like this: Duparis has been looking for the legendary Etebiuelles Olchs for a good portion of his life, and he has exhausted all of his other leads, sources, and clues to find it in every one of the four Blues; the Grand Line is all he has left now. This hospital holds the key to his Beloved's fate, but rumor has it that getting in is only as easy as dying, his luck with the non-blanks his golden ticket. The non-blanks are part of a game used by those foolish men and women looking for some dangerous thrills, a roulette played with death. Not everyone catches the virus, but possibly swallowing parasitic creatures on purpose is only a fool's game, and no one leaves the game as they entered._

_It is a good thing that Duparis is a poor fool of a pirate, then._

_He comes down with a fever that frightens even the ever indomitable and unflappable Ozvalde, who gives her captain a stricken look and instead takes the entire night watch in the crow's nest just so she won't have to stand by helplessly while he suffers. Duparis has lost his gamble with Death, as far as anyone on Staithe is concerned, but his crew knows that for him, it was_ _his_ _win._

_They come for him in the middle of the night, a group of rebels from the Inner City's underground, and they bring with them a proposition. He took the poison, drank it and "failed", and that means that if he can make it to the hospital, which only exists to those unfortunate victims of the Eater virus, then he might be allowed a chance to live. Of course, he is also unfathomably insane and also a pirate, so they tell him that someone like him must have quite a grudge to bear against the secretive government of the island and they warn him not to start anything that he cannot finish, and he agrees._

_It has been a long time coming._

_So now, here he is, only just hobbling along on his last legs after his guide, a sour-faced pair of Staitheans who joined the underground resistance simply to be a thorn in the island government's side (and who also refuse to show a filthy pirate any leniency or pity, regardless of his state of health), and he knows that he is actually dying._

_Who knows, it doesn't seem likely that perfectly healthy people like to lie around facedown in the mud very often. At any rate, his body does its best to refuse all of his commands, and Cascabela falls out of his hands and out of reach. His guides do stop, but they do nothing else but watch him with twin unimpressed glares._

_'Forgive me, Cascabela,' he thinks hopelessly, unable to even snatch it out of the mud and dirt out of respect for both his first mate and his sword. 'You deserve better than to be used as a dying man's crutch.'_

_Quinto had taken him aside before he left for his one-man march to hell and had all but shoved his priceless sword at Duparis, asking him to take care of it for him and bring it back safely. At first, he hadn't understood what had brought on this spur-of-the-moment exchange, but then his message became clear as day: 'You can't die if I make you promise to bring Cascabela back to me, so please, keep it safe.'_

_Duparis is nothing if not a man of his word._

_Right now, though, his word is the last thing on his mind, and even Cascabela is fading out of sight as he drifts in and out of consciousness._

_'You are dying, child.'_

_Duparis gives a feeble chuckle and says, 'An update on that status, please? Who might I have the honor of speaking to, by the way?'_

_He might be more than a little mad with pain and fever at the moment; hallucinations are more than forgivable, right?_

_'You do not hallucinate, Duparis, though I'm afraid that I cannot manifest myself to your eyes. I was once called Anwhe, though the destruction of my people has left me as nothing more than a ghost."_

_'A ghost?' His brows furrow as he mulls the concept over. 'I can swallow that; Nana Juluvier was always going on about the specters in the woods near our house. So, I presume you've come to take me away, then?'_

_'I'm so sorry, child. Are you ready?'_

_He thinks he is, and later he cannot believe that he was all set to abandon his attachments to this world so easily (he has been tired for a long time). But then Quinto's pleas reach his ears, and his crew is waiting for him back on the ship, and Cascabela lies before him, an insistent reminder of his word. And then, her voice wakes up the dying hope inside his chest ('Come on, Brow-by! Catch me if you can!'), and he slams his fist into the ground with a force that breaks the winter-frozen soil and startles his guides out of their stubborn aloofness._

_'Not today, Anwhe. You must accept my apologies; I have a crew that I need to keep going for.'_

_He hears a chuckle as he hauls himself to his feet and grabs Cascabela with a quick murmur of apology._

_'I admire your conviction, Duparis. Good luck, then; I'll be waiting for you.'_

_The voice leaves him standing with the bewildered guides, who give him a look as if to say they think he's lost it. "It's more of a stubbornness, actually."_

_"What?" One of them asks before the other silences him with an urgent nudge, a quick and furtive gesture. He steps back and in the space of a heartbeat, Duparis finds himself (unsurprisingly) abandoned by his escorts. It doesn't take him that much longer to find out why._

_"Oi, Bastard Captain; do you know how hard you are to track?"_

_He turns his head in the direction of that infuriatingly familiar voice with a cool expression, hoping that he really is hallucinating this time (he's not)._

_Sardoc stands at the edge of the clearing with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He is wearing more casual, sea-worn attire this time, probably fresh off the ship just now, by the looks of his rougher linen shirt and trousers, but he has donned his favorite pair of leather boots and his usual black frock coat out of vanity (Duparis shouldn't be one to talk; he is in a three-piece trekking through wild brambles and bush out of vanity as well). His eyes glitter dangerously under the rich hue of his bandana as he takes an assessing step forward. Duparis' hand tightens around Cascabela warningly._

_"You lost to him, Sardoc; let it go already."_

_He gives a sharp howl of a laugh and throws his right arm out so that Duparis can see the bandages covering the entire length of it. "You think that's why I've been following you this whole time? I already made my peace with that; it's_ _**you** _ _I have shit with."_

 _Duparis cannot help it; his body is burning up with fever, he has just lost his only chance at reaching Etebiuelles Olchs, and he_ _**hates** _ _this man with a passion that is incredibly difficult to get out of someone as laidback as he is. "Forgive me, I didn't realize you had wanted a matching pair. If you'd said something earlier, I could have saved you the trouble of picking the same exact fight with me_ _**fifteen** _ _times."_

_"Oh, you sorry worm-riddled mutt, do you think that's funny? I came here for one reason, and it's to kill you for what you did to me."_

_Duparis realizes too late that Sardoc lunges at him without drawing his weapon. He means to have Duparis disarmed before he attacks._

_The impact of the blow knocks Cascabela out of his hands; a swift kick sends it just out of his reach on the frost-covered ground. Check._

_Before he can unsheathe his sword, Duparis rushes at him and shoves the blade back into its scabbard, dealing him a punch that has his head reeling. In turn, Sardoc slams his palm against Duparis' side, and his rib gives a perfect crack as it breaks._

_Following the force of the impact, Duparis lets it send him to the floor, where he sweeps his leg under Sardoc's feet and brings him down as well; his sword goes flying and joins Cascabela among the brambles. Both men stagger frantically to their feet and scowl at each other with nothing but absolute hatred._

_"…you know I mean to kill you, right?" Sardoc pants, his jaw already bruising horribly._

_"Likewise from here," Duparis replies easily, holding his side and trying to catch his breath._

_"Good, then let's settle this like men."_

_"With violent, bone-shattering blows and scathing vitriol?"_

_Sardoc smirks. "You read my mind, bastard."_

_The next few minutes are filled with nothing but resounding cracks, slams, thumps, and general grunts of furious pain; they really do mean to kill each other._

_Sardoc is favoring his "new" good arm, and Duparis uses that to his advantage. With a quick jab and a kick to the man's injured shoulder, he manages to grab a brief respite from the fight; he is already fighting away unconsciousness as the virus burns its way through his body._

_His opponent gives a howl of rage. "That was my sword arm you took back then, you shitass! Do you know what good a swordsman is without his sword arm?"_

_Duparis allows himself an uncouth smirk. "As good as dead, Sardoc."_

_"You went too far, Duparis," he says darkly, eyes flickering over to the discarded swords before returning to glower at Duparis. "You went too damn far."_

_"I don't know what you mean; Roronoa Quinto's little finger is easily worth more than your life."_

_"You shitty bastard…I didn't even touch him!" Sardoc dives for the swords at the same time that Duparis does, and they each end up with a hand on each scabbard. Neither is willing to let go._

_Their legs suffer terribly for it, but the kicks and blows keep coming as they circle each other and hold onto the swords stubbornly._

_"Let go of Cascabela," Duparis snaps at the same time that Sardoc seethes, "You let go of my blade first."_

_"_ _**I don't trust you**_ _," they growl in unison, and then the swords are drawn._

_The sheathes fall to the ground between them._

_Sardoc is trying to find the right balance between his second arm and his injured arm, but he holds his sword aloft with incredible discipline and fortitude despite the unimaginable pain. Duparis does the same, but he knows that he at least can hide his weakness inside his body, invisible and quiet._

_"You know, I'm really going to miss our fights," Sardoc laughs, wincing as blood drips down into his swollen eye._

_"So will I," Duparis admits with a weak grin, adjusting his grip on Cascabela's gilded hilt. "So will I."_

_They move slowly, step by deathly steady step, towards each other, until their swords are just barely touching, and then they lean in close enough for their breath to mingle in the late winter chill._

_"…I've been thinking, you know," Sardoc begins, arms trembling from the force that Duparis' blows are exerting._

_He gives a snort as their swords break apart and then clash again, and they begin to fight in earnest, swords clanking together with each resonating strike. "You, thinking? My good man, don't over do it; you know brain matter is so hard to get out of silk, and I'm still within range if you blow your head sky high."_

_"Such a_ _**gentleman,** _ _aren't you? Well, if that's how you want it, I can play at your level, too."_

_"And what level would that be? The truth? Try me; I've heard it all before."_

_"No, no…I was actually just wondering what_ _ **favors**_ _Quinto gives you every night in order to have_   _ **earned** __himself such attentiveness from the captain…are you catching my drift?"_

_Duparis feels his face darken with a rush of blood and he pulls back just enough to swing Cascabela at Sardoc with all of his might. "Don't you dare drag him back into it like this!"_

_In his blind fury, he missteps and leaves himself wide open for Sardoc's next move._

_A shriek rings through the clearing, and Cascabela falls to the ground with a faint thud._

_There is a sword protruding from his stomach, and Sardoc is chuckling into his ear. "That was surprisingly easy, but then again…you've never been discreet about your feelings towards your first mate; have you, Duparis?"_

_He gives the hilt of his sword a sharp tug, and then there is burning agony exploding in his body. Duparis can barely see through the film of tears in his eyes, but he refuses to let Sardoc withdraw his sword and bleed him to death. Sardoc scoffs at his desperate attempts to keep the weapon in place, watching blood well up around the sword in two places, where it is piercing Duparis's torso and where his hands are wrapped around it._

_"Please, you've lost," he says brusquely and pulls him closer, dragging out a few more inches of steel and a low groan from Duparis. "Take it like a_ _**man** _ _, man."_

_It's a moment before Duparis can speak. "…u-up…yours…"_

_Sardoc throws his head back and laughs earnestly, and it is the opening that he was looking for. "Oh, so the true gentleman finally comes out; I'd heard the nasty rumors about you, but this is gold-!"_

_Duparis' head slams into his chin and he lets go, giving him enough time to scramble away and retreat to lick his wounds. The sword in his side is…well, a_ _**sword** _ _in his side, and he's fighting with every ounce of his strength not to pass out from the shock and pain of it all._

_He brings his left arm up defensively as Sardoc recovers and rounds on him furiously, leaving his other hand clutching at his injury protectively. "Still willing to take me up on that offer, bastard?"_

_"You're still planning to fight like this?" Sardoc's eyebrows nearly disappear underneath his bandana, but he shrugs off the bluff and settles into a fighting stance. "You're dead within two seconds, shithead."_

_Duparis already knows where he plans on attacking him, but he still tries to defend himself, and it still hurts like hell when he rips the sword out of his stomach with a deadly grace. He stumbles a few steps, then falls to his knees in front of Sardoc, who simply picks up his scabbard and sheathes the blade in one smooth motion._

_The movement, the sudden removal of the blade stuck deep inside his abdomen, and the impact of his body on the frozen ground sets something off in the virus, and then Sardoc nearly drops his sword as Duparis begins to convulse violently on the forest floor. "What the fuc-"_

_Blood dribbles out of his mouth and splatters over the collar of his white shirt, and his skin has gone ash-grey and cold. Sardoc doesn't know what this is, but he doesn't like the looks of it. He does his best to turn him onto his side, but despite his efforts to keep him breathing, Duparis is drowning in his own blood._

_"Did you fucking poison yourself? Shit, bastard; what the hell is going on? Can you hear me? Oi, fuckhead, what happened to you? Duparis…_ _**Duparis** _ _!"_

* * *

Maybe he wasn't cured of the virus yet, but for the first time in days Sanji felt like he belonged in his body again. He hadn't realized that he had forgotten what it was like not to be in pain until he was actually rid of the little bastard gnawing around on his insides, or whatever it was that it had been doing. The point was that he was free of that mess, but there was still the matter of the virus itself. If the parasite had been a simple carrier, like Three's papers said, then there was a source somewhere on the island, and he had to figure out what it was if he wanted to get to the bottom of HQ's plans.

 _But first…_ Sanji had to find the rest of these specimens and make sure that they went entirely extinct; Three's sample and his own parasitic stowaway meant that someone had been keeping them around long after the rest of the species had been eradicated. What reason they had for doing this, he couldn't even begin to fathom, but somehow these things had gotten into his "vaccine", and he was afraid that someone else might end up the next unlucky victim.

His sweeping search of the base's library had gotten him answers, but it wasn't going as quickly as he wanted; his eight hours had been whittled down to just over five and counting, and he was sure that he had dozed (however fitfully) for at least fifteen of his precious minutes after the parasite. Two and the others were doing their best to help, even if his vague parameters of the search ("I don't know, something about the stupid parasite would help…and maybe some cake, too") were anything but helpful. Still, their probing and picking around at the thousand or so books on the virus revealed that it had once been made using the natural underground springs of the island, and the earlier "vaccines" had been laden with parasites before they had supposedly been exterminated completely.

_I could have been given one of the old versions of it, so there must be some stored around here. I just hope none of the others got it, though if they had it probably would have shown itself around the same time as mine did. Not…that it would matter much to them anymore._

Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to sleep, HQ and their shitty schemes be damned. When Two caught up with him on the stacks between authors Wengeheim and Zvtti, he barely listened to her and nodded along wearily when she asked him to take a break with them. "Twelve found your cake, if you feel up to it."

"Actually, I think I'm going to lie down for a while," he said, and her eyes shone with relief at his words. "You were right; I probably should get some sleep first. I put myself through a lot today."

She wrapped her arms around his neck slowly, and he found himself leaning into her embrace without really meaning to. "I won't say, 'don't ever do something that stupid again,' because you really are just a reckless idiot, but please try to be less stupid next time, Three."

"Less stupid won't be a problem if this is the scale we're measuring my stupidity against," he joked, earning himself a playful slap from Two before she turned to head back to the library's ground level.

"Take care of yourself, Three. I'll see you in a bit."

_Take care of yourself, Sanji._

_Of course, my dearest Nami-swan and Robin-chwan. Always._

But Two wasn't Nami nor Robin, and the stark contrast of what he actually wanted and his actual reality was another blow that he wasn't ready to handle yet. Blinking back tears and trying to focus on the present and not the past, Sanji busied himself with just one more book before returning to the medics' quarters, deciding that walking down the hallway in tears was not a good idea for his disguise. Tears meant people started asking questions, and then he would likely dissolve into more tears and everyone would panic while he sobbed like a baby on the floor until Two and the others picked him up.  _Maybe another dry medical text will take my mind off of everything._

Among the dull blacks, browns, and greys of the giant blocks of paper that could barely be considered books (they could probably be interchanged with bricks and no one would be the wiser), the thin blue book should have stood out more starkly, yet he and the entire team had combed this section twice without having noticed it before. It definitely hadn't been there before.

" _Al' Blve and Other Faerie Tales_ ," he read off the book's spine, frowning at the thought of such an unusual find in a medical library.

As he stretched up to snatch it off the shelf, there was a smooth sliding sound, and then a panel of books two sections to his left sank into the wall. Sanji froze, book still in his hand, and stared at the subtle gap between the shelves with a puzzled frown. He glanced back down at the ground level and saw that the library was empty again; everyone had probably headed back to the quarters. It would only take a few minutes, he promised himself, just to see what was hidden in the wall. He would be in and out immediately, and then he would try to rest and keep Two and the others happy.

The hole in the wall was pitch black and seemingly empty, but the space beyond it gave off the impression of a wide, open expanse; some cautious probing with his foot revealed a thin walkway cutting straight through the void, and with a deep breath, Sanji gathered up his courage and took the first step.

When he had completely submerged himself in the shadowy space, there was that same sliding sound, and then the panel behind him moved back into its place. He glanced back in wide-eyed shock, but no matter where he looked, all that he could see was blackness.

There was nowhere to go but forward.

He didn't know how long he had been walking; the complete darkness and utter silence was disorienting and made it hard to keep track of time, so the only thing that he could focus on was the book in his hands and his weight bearing down slowly on the invisible walkway with each step he took. Sometimes he thought that he could see an archway up ahead, twinkling with tiny, star-like lights, and other times the archway was behind him and he almost turned around to head back to it.  _No, don't look back. Keep moving forward._

Almost as soon as the thought had passed his mind, he pressed onward and found himself standing in the center of a dimly lit room, and there was no sight of the walkway nor the vacuum of space. "…where am I?"

The room was spacious yet gloomy, and when he looked up towards the curved ceiling, past the dry, crumbling beams supporting the structure of the cavern, he could just make out the faint outline of a path…his walkway. How had he gotten all the way down here? He didn't remember descending any stairs, and the walkway hovered hundreds of feet above him with no sign of sloping downward. Either way, it didn't really matter anymore, because he had just found the motherload of viruses.

On every wall, in every which way he looked, there were shelves upon shelves of glass vials, all meticulously labeled and organized by virus strain and year. He wandered up and down the aisles like it was a food store, reading and picking at each section carefully, though he could make neither heads nor tails of the labels on the vials. J1-SK6-2B445, J1-SK6-2B446, J1-SK6-2B447…they might as well have been written in another language for all that the codes made sense. He glanced down at the vial he had taken from Three's research and began to look for its corresponding shelf. That was when he reached the section with the names.

 _These names…these are people's names. Victims of the virus, maybe?_ They all shared certain characteristics to the point where he began to wonder if they were all from the same place. An empty space next to the name "Vollendahl, D." caught his eye, and he realized it belonged to the vial in his hand. He placed it next to Vollendahl's sample and studied the name carefully; it didn't match any of the other names at all. It wasn't even in alphabetical order.  _Who is Duparis?_

While he was trying to decide whether to keep on investigating this side mystery or whether to just destroy all of the virus vials instead, Sanji backed up into an open door and just barely caught himself from stumbling back into the empty space behind him. Grabbing hold of the doorway to keep himself upright, his fingers found purchase on some strange gouges in the stone door. He pulled his hand away when he remembered the gashes on the walls in the labyrinth underneath the records room, and he was horrified to find blood dripping down his wrist.

Sanji whirled around and began to retreat from the open doorway; above it were the remains of a halved sign warning (too little, too late) in thick, black letters, "DO NOT OPEN". There was no indication that the door had not been forced open, and even the heavy bolt-style locks were broken. Whatever it was that had smashed its way in, it was something huge and powerful.

And then, that something slammed into him.

His vision was a blur for several terrifying moments, and he could feel blood seeping into the front of Three's uniform; he  _had_  to have torn something this time. He couldn't stop shaking from the fear of being able to guess (but not see) what his attacker was. Forcing himself to sit up weakly, Sanji glanced around the room wildly and tried not to think of the rooms under the records office or the slaughter he had woken up to in the hospital.  _Where is it? Hiding? Watching me? Waiting to strike?_

The Hound emerged from the darkness before him, dragging itself slowly over the dusty floor with a low sound of wet scales gliding across stone. In the shadows it could have been a mermaid, with a human-like torso and the lower body of a fish, but the light revealed its rough scales and the thick, serpentine tentacles wrapped around its tail. There was a thick ring of fur at the place where its torso met its tail, and two extra pairs of arms rested just above its waist. Propping itself up on its main front arms, the "sea dog" craned its head at Sanji and seemed to be studying his appearance.

_"…bad…man…?"_

Sanji's mouth opened in a silent scream.

Its eyes looked straight into his own, glittering and dark and laughing. Raising one of its twisted, clawlike hands to its face, it pressed a talon to its mouth and made a soft shushing noise.

Sanji's trembling had stopped, and he couldn't even think of screaming anymore; staying silent was only too easy at this point.

It sneered at him, revealing a set of gleaming fangs and jagged, wedge-shaped teeth dripping with blood.

_"Good…boy…?"_


	18. it's in the water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji has a brilliantly dangerous plan...and it fails; he also is very nostalgic today, a trait he shares with someone else from North Blue, while Duparis and Sardoc bond over more shared stupidity, the Project's sexual harrassment policies are terrible, and Franky really needs to get a clue. Seriously.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, the Straw Hats get another heart-to-heart and a special phone call.

_The first thing he is aware of is the warmth and expanse before him._

_It feels so reassuring and real in his current perception of torment that he simply lets it be, sinking back against it wearily until he falls half-conscious again. He would have been very happy to let things continue that way, but consciousness demands to be considered fully._

_So, with the last of his will, he forces his eyes open to the painful light of noon, and his world becomes the unshakable form of Sardoc's back._

_"Welcome back to the land of the living, Captain Bastard."_

_Duparis barely manages to remember how his mouth is supposed to form words. "…w-why're you…carryin' me?"_

_Sardoc's laugh is softer than he's used to hearing. "How do you expect to get yourself to the Biles, idiot? No one else is around to carry your sorry ass all the way there, right?"_

_"…you…could have le-left me…" Duparis struggles to make sense of what's going on. They hate each other; why is Sardoc doing this? "…I thought…you meant to kill me…"_

_Sardoc laughs loudly and begins to make up some excuse about how he was just making sure not to leave trash littered on the forest floor, but it probably sounds just as false even in his own ears. He shrugs instead. "…maybe I'm not so certain after all."_

_"A-about carrying me or…about no one e-else being around?" Duparis asks feebly from somewhere against Sardoc's shoulder; if only he could lift his head so his voice didn't sound so muffled._

_"You idiot, I'm talking about me not wanting to kill you!"_

_Duparis has had enough dreadful encounters with this man to know better than to be moved. He tries instead to reconcile this confession of Sardoc's with their cruel, raging battles. Finally, after his tired mind is completely taxed and frazzled, he simply says, "you…ran me through with your sword."_

_"Sorry, I wasn't thinking," Sardoc mumbles._

_"And you pulled out hard, like you intended to-"_

_"It was a heat of the moment thing. Can we drop it now?"_

_He is a mature, well-mannered man, but he can also be a troublemaker, according to Quinto, and he knows this very well. "You leaned in to whisper in my ear, like…this…"_

_He can just picture Sardoc's face at the moment, and it's enough to make him smile._

_"Alright, I think I'm just going to dump you here and walk away. Very quickly."_

_"You wouldn't do that," Duparis grins weakly, though he isn't really sure about that. Sardoc has all of the temperance of a hurricane out on the first stretch of sea beyond the Grand Line, and he might actually follow through with his word._

_The man shrugs and loosens his hold on Duparis. "Do you want to test that theory of yours?"_

_"Understood, sir."_

_They go along in silence for a while, the only sounds disturbing the soft, almost ethereal sounds of the midday forest are the thudded footfalls of Sardoc's boots and Duparis' labored breathing. During one of his more violent fits of shaking he can feel Sardoc stop and wait patiently for him to compose himself; even afterwards his body won't stop trembling. He bites back a moan at the sharp pain in his side and hopes that Sardoc doesn't notice._

_Sardoc sighs. "Why'd you do something so stupid?"_

_"What…are you t-talking…about?" he wheezes and looks down at the makeshift bandages darkening around his middle. "…wait, is this from your coat?"_

_"Mm-hm. Now listen; I know you're an absolute moron, but it takes a spectacular level of stupidity to swallow live parasitic animals before taking a nice trek through the woods. Was it out of machismo, masochism, or just for shits and giggles?"_

_This is getting too personal for his liking, and the only thing he can think to say to that is something infuriatingly stupid. "A bit of each is good and probable."_

_"Duparis."_

_He is stunned by the amount of gravity that his voice carries, and yet Sardoc hasn't even gotten started._   _"I can feel your fever even through all fifty layers of your wardrobe and only an hour ago you were practically choking on your own blood and vomit. Why the hell are you doing this?"_

_He feels uncomfortable with how close this is to turning into the conversation he had with his first mate not twenty-four hours ago. It was hard enough with Quinto, who he has known for a long time; with Sardoc, the prospect of this is unbearable. "…you wouldn't understand."_

_Sardoc laughs and shakes his head as though that is the funniest thing he has ever heard. "What, this? Trying to land yourself in a made-up hospital by drinking poisoned water? Coming to this godforsaken island in the first place? Right, because I'm such a rational, sane person...try me, Duparis."_

_The forest seems to fall silent around them as Sardoc stops walking again, and only the two of them exist in the world for a moment. His voice is low and hard when he asks the fateful question. "Who did they take from you?"_

_Duparis can barely remember the way his voice sounded like when he was a child, but he is sure that it just got terribly close to it right now. "…she was…m-my sister."_

_His darling, beloved little Ctena._

_Sardoc exhales slowly. "You were pretty young when they spirited her away, huh?"_

_Spirited away…right. He can still hear her screams ringing in his ears, even in the bright sunlight filtering in through the canopy of trees. "I was on the cusp of adulthood; she was still just nine years old. We had a couple of years between us."_

_"That's not…" Sardoc frowns and seems to choose to let that slip by. Good, he doesn't think that he has the energy to explain exactly why an eleven-year-old back in his home could be considered an adult. "…I'm sorry. It doesn't fix anything…it's actually pretty damn useless, but it's true. I'm sorry for what they did to you. Killing yourself isn't going to fix this either."_

_"I know, it was a stupid idea from the start, wasn't it?" Duparis forces himself to grin even though he doesn't have to; Sardoc can't see his face right now, but it has become habit to smile in the face of complete and utter failure to pretend that everything is alright. "…you don't have to keep going; I'm fine with dying right here."_

_"I can't."_

_"What…what are you talking about? Let go; it's fine."_

_"…I drank the non-blanks, too." Sardoc probably has that idiotic, self-satisfied smirk on his stupid, ugly face right now, on top of that idiotic, self-satisfied chuckle. "Nasty stuff; dunno why you wanna die this way, but if you go, I'm going with you."_

_"…you unimaginable idiot." His smile falters and he tries to push away from him, only to find his wrists are bound with the beautiful dark remains of Sardoc's bandana, to keep him from slipping off when he was unconscious, he supposes. He notes that the gashes on his palms are wrapped in it as well. There is so much that he is furious about that he doesn't know what to start yelling at him first. "You idiot, this was your favorite coat and bandana!"_

_Sardoc nods thoughtfully. "Glad to see you have your priorities straight, Captain Bastard."_

_He could cry at how utterly stupid both of them are; it's almost fitting that they die here together. "Why the hell did you do this? I would have died here alone and you would finally have your revenge! Why would you choose to come out here to die too?"_

_"So what, are my actions not speaking loud enough for you?" Now Sardoc has raised his voice too, and it's still volumes softer than Duparis' frantic yelling. "I. Said. You. Don't. Die. Without. Me. Got it?"_

_Sardoc grumbles something else that he doesn't quite manage to hear, but he does make sure to add at the end: "No germ is going to be the thing to finish your stupid ass off; that's my privilege."_

_Duparis has never felt so torn between complete gratitude towards such a gesture and total admiration at the utter audacity that this idiot has. It's why he doesn't even have to struggle to bring a smile to his face when he speaks._

_"…thank you; that's very noble of you, Sardoc," he says honestly, choosing to overlook the last bit for now._

_"…Vollandahl."_

_He furrows his brow. "P-pardon?"_

_Sardoc rolls his shoulder a little and shakes his head almost nervously. "If we're dying here together, I want to die with someone who at least knows my name. Dag Vollandahl."_

_"Ah? So Sardoc's not your real name?" Duparis smiles at the irony of the two of them knowing each other by a fake name this whole time._

_He answers in a way that is practiced casual, a little too bright for the line of his mouth and the set of his jaw. "Took it off an old fisherman back in South Blue. Fake identities are so underrated in the piracy business nowadays."_

_"Dag…I like it. It's very pretty."_

_Sardoc's expression sours. "I changed my mind; forget that name immediately."_

_Duparis laughs, breathless and exhausted by this point. He can feel his eyelids getting heavy and tired and it's all he can do to stay focused on the conversation. "No, I'd rather not, Dagny. May I call you Dagny?"_

_"Fuck you."_

_He blinks slowly and studies the soft, light-colored wisps of hair at the base of his head. Strange, he hadn't taken him for a blond. "You…have…hair."_

_"Goddammit, Duparis." His voice is brimming with laughter, but there's a touch of concern underneath it._

_"Orphélie Normandeau," he corrects Dag in a slurred voice. "If we're going by real names when we die. And I like your hair."_

_Dag rolls his eyes with such vehemence that Duparis is surprised they don't pop out of his head. "If you compare it to 'spun gold' or 'the morning sunlight', I am going to drop you off the nearest cliff."_

_"…s'not like gold, it's yellow," he chuckles, wishing that he could keep his eyes open just a little longer. With the last of his energy, he raises a trembling hand to that yellow hair and brushes the fringe across his forehead, wondering why the only thing he can remember now is the yellow-bright meadows near Chantephine Estates and the long-ago memory of a little girl bounding just ahead of him, her laughter like chimes in the August heat. "Like the meadows in the summer…so maybe…just a little bit...like sunlight."_

_The rest of his thoughts are lost to the roaring in his ears, which sounded much like a crashing tide or like losing his sense of hearing; Duparis doesn't even manage to hear that faraway voice calling his name over and over again. It's easier than dying, and much less painful, actually. Falling asleep usually is, but he's not sure which one he's doing._

_In any case…it doesn't matter anymore._

* * *

Sanji was a stupid man.

It was a fact that had been true for most of his life and would continue to bear repeating until the day he inevitably brought death upon himself, probably sooner than later. Over the years he might have grown more level-headed and cautious, but fear was a powerful master. Sanji, for all of his bravery in the face of danger, was a slave to it. In lieu of reckless courage and action, he found himself more often acting out of terror and fright: fear of pain, fear of despair, fear of loss. Right now, it was that universal fear of not surviving that motivated his stupidity, and like so many years ago on the Orbit Sanji provoked someone who was bigger, stronger, and so much deadlier than he could ever hope to be.

The Hound didn't even wait for his hand to close around the hunk of debris he planned to lob at it; as soon as its deep black eyes detected the movement, it leapt out and caught his arms above his head, pinning him down in one smooth bound. Its laugh echoed in the cavernous space as it leered over his panting frame, a harsh, scraping sound like something dull was being dragged across its vocal cords.

 _"Bad man,"_  it grimaced, running its sharp talons over the front of his bloody uniform. The fabric gave way instantly, and so did his skin.  _"You don't play nice today, Three."_

A horrible scream tore itself from Sanji's throat as the Hound plucked away the bandages and staples like they were simply toys to play with until it got bored. Its eyes seemed to light up at the sight of fresh blood welling up underneath the strips of cloth and gauze.  _"Bad man guts…my favorite."_

It giggled as his body began to shake with sobs and useless struggling. Even under better circumstances he would have been hard pressed to get this thing off of him, let alone now, with the Hound torturing him with its taunting, sing-song  _"Three is a bad man today"_  in his ear while it cut him open as though he was just a dissection specimen for a beginner student. Still, he was coherent enough for one thought to make something click in his mind before everything just blanked out completely.

Sanji howled and wrested as much of the mask off his face as he could. He was certain that he was going to die right here and now; the pain was horrendous and blinding and he couldn't even remember who he was anymore besides  _"I'm not Three!"_

His outburst was unexpected enough that the Hound stopped its examination of the incision lines across his stomach; it looked almost puzzled at his statement.  _"Not…Three?"_

It didn't notice Sanji's foot move and hook itself underneath the closest shelf until it came crashing down over its shoulders. Underneath the shower of broken glass vials and unidentified clear liquid from the virus samples, the Hound pulled away from Sanji with a startled shriek, giving him enough time to scramble backwards and straight into the storage cabinets against the wall. He struggled to his feet and leaned against the workspace counter, squinting through the haze of pain to wonder at the monster's reaction to the broken shelving.

It was scrambling around and giving out quiet, uneasy whines as the contents of the vials spread across the floor, like it knew what was in them. Sanji frowned when he realized that it was scared of the parasites. "…you know what they are, huh?"

Without really thinking about the consequences, he shoved all of his weight into the next row of shelves and sent them smashing into the stone floor. The shelf missed the Hound this time, but its panic only increased despite the fact that the vials were destroyed. It backed up into another row, and in its frenzy it knocked over two more with its tail, which served nothing but to elicit more frightened screaming from the creature. Sanji took advantage of its distraction to duck towards the broken doorway, only to find the first shelf blocking the bottom part of the exit. Gritting his teeth and grabbing the twisted metal frame to pull himself, he ignored the faint, prickling nips at the tops of his boots until it was almost too late.

"What the-?" Sanji drew his feet up and stared in shock at the writhing, serpentine creatures gliding through the water that had spilled from the vials. They looked like the one he had been infected with, only larger and a lot more active. "You're kidding me. They  _grow?"_

The Hound gave no reply but a series of whimpers as it retreated further and further into the cavern, staring at the advancing water and parasites with a fearful look in its glistening eyes.  _"…bad, sorry…so bad, sorry…"_

This bore repeating: Sanji was a  _very_  stupid man.

He dropped down to the ground and rushed past the creatures congregating at his end of the room, unable to think about anything else but reaching the Hound cowering near the shelves against the wall. It was like a match to the flame; as soon as his feet hit the water, the snake-like things broke into a focused frenzy, and the target was the man standing ankle-deep in the contaminated water. If his intention was drawing the creatures away from the Hound, then he had definitely succeeded.

The Hound glanced up at him, and Sanji was surprised that he had moved himself between the parasites and the whimpering creature that only just moments ago had been delighting in his own torture.  _"…not Three…good…man?"_

"Stupid man," he corrected it between trembling breaths, hunched over his blood soaked middle in an attempt to remain upright long enough to set his new plan into motion. He only had one shot at this, and escape was unfortunately not an option. "Only the most stupid."

Upon seeing its eyes looking at him with something like a strange, singular emotion, Sanji forced a wide, toothy smile onto his face and nodded it off. "Go on, get out of here now. Leave, okay?"

One of the parasites leapt out of the water at the reluctant Hound, and he just managed to catch it against his forearm before it could reach the creature. This was it; he had no time left. "Go,  _now_."

As he listened to the fading sound of the Hound's scales sliding across the wet floor, Sanji glared into the parasite's gaping teeth-rimmed jaw straining to reach him, only centimeters away from his face. Reaching up to pull the mask back over his mouth, he backed up, step by step, away from the beastly things crowding around his feet.

"Oi, uglies," he muttered underneath the mask, eyes casting around the room at all of the escaped specimens and the untouched vials on the shelves; he had been outnumbered from the moment he stepped into this place. That didn't frighten him, though. He was insane from pain and grief, and the only thing that made sense to him right now was protecting someone, even a monstrous little fiend like the Hound. He was done being afraid. "Come get me, if you can."

* * *

The commons of Base AAGE was just a stupid way of saying it was the main hangout of all the staff and personnel living on base and also the place where they ate, caught up with old acquaintances, and slept, on rare occasions (despite the "No Sleeping on the Lounges" rule). It was like the lawn on the Thousand Sunny, only with lots of pillows and tables and people in vicious-looking Viking gear.

_We should get some of those for the ship. Maybe there'll be room in next month's budget somewhere._

Franky stepped over one of the border guards sprawled across the red striped lounge and winced at the thunderous snoring coming from the man's mouth. He was even worse than Zoro, actually. One of the other Guards gave him a hard look, and he took that as his cue to keep moving. He couldn't handle even the snoring guy on the couch as an opponent with the condition his body was in right now, let alone anyone else in this room. Picking fights with these bastards would just have to wait.

The shipwright sat down at the bar and lifted his helmet just enough so that he could glance over the labels on the bottles sitting on the shelf behind the counter. "Oi, do you have any cola in this place?"

"Sure, man."

He grinned at the server behind the counter and popped the bottle open before guzzling the entire thing down in one swig. "….aahhh, okay; I'm gonna need like eight more of those."

The man's eyes widened slightly, and then his face broke out into a wide grin. "Righteous, dude. Coming right up."

Wondering if Usopp and Sanji would be able to hold out until he finished getting himself back to functioning mode, Franky listened in to the various conversations carrying on around him, hoping that something about this island's secrets would come up, as improbable as that was. And true to form, nothing but dull, everyday conversations filled the room as more people began to arrive for the dinner hour. Conversations about the insane hours they had to put in every day, about whether the onion soup or the raisin flatbread was the better side for the meatball dish, and exactly how to go about getting Hound blood out of a uniform at the end of One of Those Days. That one at least sounded sort of interesting until it dissolved into a fight over detergents (did these people have nothing better to do than to argue all day?), but then a fresh new conversation caught his ear.

Franky sipped his cola slowly and stored the remaining bottles away before edging a few seats closer to the argument, but staying far enough to avoid rousing suspicion from either party.

It started when one of the Guards swaggered up to the counter, right up to the only Medic currently in the room. Draping an arm around him, he said with a sly grin, "Hey, Twelve; all of us guys in the quarters haven't had a decent checkup in a while, if you're catching my drift. You don't mind making a house call on short notice, huh?"

"Eugh, get  _off_  me," Twelve yelped, throwing the Guard's arm off his shoulders and shoving himaway. His eyes, the only part of his face that the Medic was allowed to show, seethed with anger. "It's barely appealing on a good day, you moron, and after the way your rabble treated Three today…forget it."

"Aw, come on, toots; don't be like that." The man seemed determined not to give up, and his friends had come over to back him up as well. "You're just tense, when was the last time anyone got you…like…this…?"

Before he could finish placing his hands on Twelve's shoulders, he found a couple of lancets only a hair's breadth away from his right eyeball. "Do that again and this will be several inches into your brain matter…got it, Slate? That goes for the rest of the dog food idiots in the room."

Twelve flicked the scalpels lightly and, satisfied with the flinch that Slate gave, slipped them back into his sleeve and turned back to the server to place his order. "Anyway, that's a chocolate cake, with marshmallow frosting and those funny little coconut shavings you stuff inside the whole thing. No I'm not pregnant; don't be stupid. It's for a friend…my friend's not pregnant either, disappointingly."

Slate scowled and sank down between Franky and Twelve, though he didn't seem to be in a hurry to try anything again. "You're a rude fuck, Twelve."

"Keep going, you boor," Twelve said in a bright, cheery voice, examining the cake with an excited light in his eyes. "Someday you might accidentally stumble upon a way to get me into your bed that doesn't make me want to choke myself on your dick."

"Very funny, lab rat," the Guard said bitterly, swiping the nearest drink on the counter, which happened to belong to another of his friends. "Someday  _you'll_  realize what an uptight little prick you really are. You and all your snooty lab rat friends…always acting like you're better than everyone else. By the way, I heard there was something fishy going on up in your section. Like someone was…sick."

Franky quietly took another cola from the bartender and leaned back casually, pretending to be very interested in what the label said about the nutritional value of his beverage. The Medics' section…hadn't he been there earlier?

Twelve chose out a bright pink icing for the message on the cake and raised his brow. "And?"

"Try to act like you've still got a brain in there, Twelve. This is Staithe; no one gets sick here."

"A common piece of lore, probably. Scientifically unfounded."

"It hasn't been proved wrong."

"You can't prove it right either." Twelve narrowed his eyes at the cake, mouthing out the number of sugary whipped plumes of icing along its edges. "Why do you care about these rumors all of a sudden? You hate the gossip always going around this place."

One of Slate's friends leaned over his shoulder and tried to swipe a bit of frosting off the top of the cake, only to be deterred by both Slate and the server at the counter. "Well, we heard it from a friend who knows a guy, who knows another guy, who knows a girl who knows an  _old_  guy who-"

Slate lost his patience first, unlike Twelve who actually looked interested in the conversation for the first time. "The point, Auburn? We're waiting for it."

Auburn sighed but knew to condense his story for his own sake. "Anyway, we heard you were midwifing in your quarters; is it true that one of you guys got knocked up?"

Twelve shrugged in amusement. "Admittedly, it would have been fun, but you know that's also illegal on the island. It was just a bad case of...gas, that's all."

"You know, I never really understood the whole 'no doctoring or reproducing' thing we've got going on," Auburn continued as Slate just tapped his fingers impatiently on Twelve's lap. The latter did his best to scoot away from him and almost fell off his stool. "It's just really sad...you know what I mean, Slate?"

"…no, I don't have the slightest idea what you mean."

"I get you, Auburn," Twelve grinned, handing the cake back to the server so he could write the message on it. "But just imagine…babies and the Hounds running around the underground base. It'd be a disaster."

"It actually has something to do with an incident twenty years ago," he said, nodding at the 'Congratulations!' that the server had just laid down on the cake. "A young couple lost their twins, and one of the doctors here went missing…secret science and families just don't mix, I guess. Anyway, rules are rules for a reason…yeah, that's  _San-ban-me_ , spelled S-A-N-J-I."

He caught Franky's openly stunned expression and smiled innocently. "My spelling's always been sort of…off, don't you think? Don't worry, I think he'll get the message."

With that, and waving off Slate's and his group's persistent hounding ("fine, whatever; just stop it," he muttered as he wrenched his arm out of Slate's grip), Twelve strode out of the commons with the cake and with the strange hints he was dropping around Franky. The shipwright realized that he was still staring at the empty door when Slate gave him a clap on the back that both snapped him out of his frozen shock and sent a surge of pain across his injuries. None of that compared with the anger he felt at the exchange that had just taken place in front of him.

It was with this in mind that Franky turned around to address the entire group of Guards sitting next to him. "You really shouldn't have kept going with all that."

Slate snorted. "What, the pestering? It was for fun, man; don't be so uptight."

"He obviously didn't want to."

"Tch, Twelve?" He rolled his eyes at the others, and they burst out laughing. "Always puts up the same crap even though we all know how it's gonna end. What's anyone gonna say about it, huh? If he didn't want to, he should have said no."

He did, Franky wanted to point out, but then he realized that he should have said something from the start before Twelve crumpled under their badgering. With a sigh of discontent, he tried not to feel guilty about wanting to put his friends first despite the blatant problems lurking about this island.  _Sanji and Usopp come first, right?_

The memory of Ghea's tearstained face drifted to the forefront of his mind, along with Twelve's defeated eyes as he rubbed his bruised forearm in front of this band of bastards sitting next to him. Franky closed his eyes and downed the rest of his cola before getting up to leave; if all hell broke loose in this place, he promised himself to make sure that Slate and his crew were one of the first Border Guards that he went after.  _Friends come first…but what about the rest of these people?_

* * *

See, this was the reason that Sanji had promised himself not to get cornered into any fights, and that included grabbing the undivided attention of a horde of ravenous semi-aquatic parasitic creatures like these…virus-carrying things. With long tails and slimy, slippery serpent bodies and more teeth than any one animal should ever be allowed.

He ripped the leech thing off his wrist and threw it back into the water before turning on his heel and rushing for the supplies cabinet at the other end of the room. Alone they might have been easy to handle even with his injuries, but when he was being forced to fend off their sharp-toothed snapping at every inch of flesh they could get at, it was all he could do to keep them from leaving anything worse than a bleeding bite mark on his skin. Glancing briefly at one of the puncture wounds on his wrist, he had to wonder what in the world his parasite had done inside his body. If he didn't die of disembowelment, blood loss, or infection first he was sure that the damage caused by its hungry frenzy would kill him by sundown.

"Fuck, this is the worst island ever," he groaned, spilling the contents of the second container from the supplies closet all over the floor. " _Shit_ …dammit, leave me alone for two seconds, you bastards."

There were just too many of them, and he had run out of good knife-like tools to use against them all; the water had turned a dark, murky color with all of the blood they had spilled already. Sanji stepped back in confusion when they suddenly did what he asked and stopped attacking, but he didn't think to question it in favor of finishing what he had started. Grabbing the last of the containers, he clambered up onto one of the slabs left over from the broken shelves and positioned it just right.  _One shot,_  he muttered to himself,  _and then this is over, HQ._

A hushed noise from the doorway made him turn around to see that the Hound was back, climbing over the rubble blocking the passageway and peering down at the water curiously. It backed away with a frightened cry when one of the leeches snapped at it.

"No…" Sanji dropped the empty canister and failed to notice that it started corroding as soon as it hit the water. "Get away, I told you to leave!"

The beast screamed when one of the parasites latched onto its shoulder, and Sanji jumped down into the water without a second thought, which was enough to draw the leeches away from the Hound immediately.

It was also enough to start eating straight through the boots he wore, stopping him in his tracks before he could go any further.

He grabbed a hold of one of the standing shelves to keep himself from toppling straight into the water and let out a bloodcurdling scream that echoed through the cavern and all the way up the inside of the tower. It was all he could do to remain upright, let alone move; the pain was  _so bad_. The seconds wore on, and he could hear the metal frame of the shelving begin to give way to the corrosive water. But even as he tried to force himself to take a step or two (how was it possible for him to still be on his feet?), he noticed that the parasites had stopped moving as well. They had no eyes, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that they were watching him.

"…bastards think you're pretty clever, huh?" he laughed between gasping breaths, struggling to move his right foot just a little more through the burning water they had lured him into. "Whatever that stuff is that's in your blood…is no big deal…"

He hissed as his foot slipped on the slippery stone beneath the water. "….let me show you how to really set a person's flesh ablaze."

With the kind of grin he only wore when he was truly and utterly overwhelmed by that crazy self-destructive emotion that made him try to sacrifice himself for his friends, Sanji flicked the lighter in his pocket and held the flame up to the slowly dripping oil from one of the few lanterns still in one piece against the wall. His eyes traced the path up the wooden frame towards the support beams giving the room its structure, and then he smirked at the parasites creeping back towards him. "Take notes, bastards."

The room went up in flames.

* * *

"Luffy, please; for once in your life think rationally and listen to me instead of rushing headfirst into things."

Nami had lost all sense of self after her endless pleads to reason with her crewmates fell on deaf ears, and now she was left scrambling to appeal to the least reasonable Straw Hat of them all, the captain.

Luffy looked at her from the chair he was propped up in, letting Chopper take the wrappings off his healed hands for hopefully the last time. "Nami, why are you tearing your hair out like that? You don't have a handy straw hat like mine to cover up bald spots."

 _"There's a bald spot?"_  she shrieked and smoothed her hair down desperately.

Robin chuckled and pulled her into her lap to brush it all out with steady, gentle hands. "Nami, please calm down; we all have to get ready to return to the island together."

"I've told you all time and time again," she whimpered, fiddling with her fingers nervously, "this is a terrible idea and we should wait for Usopp and Franky to get back with Sanji so we can leave this awful place."

Zoro and Brook looked over from the supplies they were bolting down to both ships' cargo holds while the Lathos Pirates worked on readying the sails for the trip back. The swordsman furrowed his brow and gave her frazzled stare a cool, calm gaze in return. "Seriously, if you want to stay behind just say so and we'll go alone. But the captain's already decided and if you think you're just going to keep badmouthing his decision while I'm around then you've definitely forgotten how things on this ship work."

"Everyone, please," Brook soothed quietly, noticing Luffy's growing concern for his navigator's miserable state and the first mate's cold anger. "We all want the same thing. A happy, healthy, and safe cook back on our wonderful ship and yet another adventure neatly wrapped up and left behind us as we sail off into the horizon, right?"

"How we actually go about that seems to be the problem," Robin noted but agreed with his statement. "Maybe if we first assuage Nami's fears we'll be able to continue on more easily?"

Brook smiled and drew his violin out from seemingly nowhere at all, surprising Zoro, who was standing right next to him and was trying to figure out how he had done that. "I have a brilliant solution for that! How about a song for the discontent navigator?"

"I don't want a song," Nami said sharply and turned away. "I want none of my friends to get hurt anymore. Is that so much to ask for?"

Luffy stood up, a little less exuberantly than his usual energy levels allowed him to, and he walked over to the navigator and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Nami."

Her eyes glanced sidelong at his hands. They were still pinkish and looked sore and tender, but she could tell that Chopper's care had helped his healing along a lot faster than they would have on their own, considering the devastating effect of the poison from a few days ago. "Yes, Luffy?"

He smiled sloppily and said, "You've got a little frizzy right here."

She blinked slowly as he poked the top of her head.

"I'll let you wear the hat for a while if it helps," he added, ducking away from her fist with a laugh. "Hahaha, missed-"

Her right hook caught him perfectly across the face.

"Stupid insensitive jerk," she muttered and shook her hand out with a wince. "Can't you see I'm worried about our friends?"

"So am I."

Everyone froze at the captain's admittance, but Luffy just shrugged and sat up on the floor where Nami's fist had thrown him down. "It hurt to not be there to take care of Sanji, and to have to let Usopp and Franky go back alone, but that's why we have to go back now."

Nami dropped down to her knees in front of him, feeling shame for acting like she had been the only one affected by what had happened back on the port. Luffy's smile was back and he grabbed her hands with a grip strong and reassuring enough to make her look up. "Once I'm back, I'll do whatever I can to keep them safe, Nami."

She knew that she could trust his word, but before she say anything Brook interrupted their moment with a hesitant harrumph.

"…ahem, I hate to intrude, but I think I heard the Den Den Mushi ringing while I was tuning my violin."

"I've got it, I've got it!" Luffy stumbled to his feet and nearly tripped over the navigator, got caught and steadied by Robin's hands, and then smashed his face into Zoro's middle with a muffled "ooph!". In the end, Chopper answered the phone, as he was the only one not to get tangled up in Luffy's limbs or to crash into any of his crewmates.

"Hello, this is the Lion Gang Champion," Chopper said brightly into the receiver and confusing all of his crewmates…as well as the person on the other end of the line.

_"Pardon? …hm, it seems that I connected to the wrong pirate ship. I was attempting to reach the Thousand Sunny. My apologies."_

Chopper frowned slightly. "Who this is?"

Luffy was about to burst in with a scream of "you've got the right ship, lady!", but Robin stifled his outburst with a quick hand clapped over his mouth while Brook held him back from the Den Den Mushi. Whoever that was on the line, it was no one that any of them recognized.

"Excuse me, I  _said_ -"

_"The right ship, hm? Could that have been the infamous Monkey D. Luffy I just heard being muffled in the background?"_

Zoro ran a hand over his face in exasperation and glared at the captain, who didn't seem to catch why everyone was looking at him so angrily. He hadn't even gotten to announce his title to the mysterious woman like he had wanted to. Wriggling around impatiently, Luffy managed to maneuver his lips around Robin's fingers and said as loudly as he could, "That's future King of Pirates, lady! Who are you, and why aren't you answering my doctor's question?"

There was a soft crackle of static, and then the woman on the line gave a lifeless chuckle that just seemed to fit her expressionless voice. The receiver went silent again briefly before the laugh returned and echoed over the static for several long moments, filling the room in an eerie, unsettling manner.

"…you may refer to me solely as HQ."

* * *

The fire spread along the dry, broken beams crisscrossing over the room like a web perfectly and rapidly, trailing up and down the splashed oil from the lanterns until it reached the hidden vats of other various flammable materials that he had scrounged up. The room sizzled and crackled with the intense heat over the minutes leading up to the last part of the chain reaction, and then the canisters erupted with a roar.

Sanji didn't feel the singing glance that caught him in the shoulder as one of the vats near him exploded. He couldn't hear the dying, chirping screeches of the parasites trapped underneath the flaming beams in the room. He couldn't lift his head from the metal sheet he was clutching to stay on his feet, let alone gather up the strength he needed to climb up the wreckage that remained of the only exit left in the place. All he remembered was heat and the feeling of being burned alive. The water was poison and fire, eating everything in its path mercilessly.  _I can't...hold out anymore..._ His feet slipped deeper into the pooling water as his legs gave out, and his nails dragged thin, pale scratches into the metal sheet.

Before his first knee went in, something grabbed him by the injured shoulder and dragged him out, little by little, and then the room was engulfed by smoke and flames.

Sanji drifted back into clarity as the fires howled and burst upwards in the tower room behind them. Slowly, trying to stifle the screaming pain in his body, he turned his head in the Hound's direction and smiled weakly. "…hey…you s-stupid thing…couldn't even li-li-listen to me…"

The beast whimpered and whined, letting its tentacles draw away from his shoulder and then retreating along with them.

He reached a shaking, blood-splattered hand towards it and waited for it to see that he meant no harm by it. "…it's okay…'m not…you did good, stupid. You did so good."

 _"…good…stupid?"_  It pointed a talon at itself in confusion, and he couldn't help the laugh that escaped his cracked lips.

"Good…baby…" he murmured softly, wincing when too-sharp claws dug into his palm.  _It's holding my hand._  He wasn't imagining it; the Hound's behavior was becoming less and less malicious and just ignorant. Naive. It didn't know any better, did it? "I'm alive because of you….so thank you…"

The Hound chirruped happily, which was the oddest sound he could have ever imagined coming out of the terrifying beast's rumbling throat. It lay down next to him and tugged the book out of his pocket, something he had forgotten about in all of the havoc back in the parasite room. Sadly, the book hadn't fared as well as the pair had; all that remained of  _Al' Blve and Other Faerie Tales_  was the broken spine and a spread of acid-water soaked, blood drenched, and badly torn pages. Noticing the Hound's crestfallen look, also an impressive feat considering its scaly, formidable appearance, he carefully pried the ruined book out of its hands and set it down between them. "…was this your book?"

_"…sorry, I broke it, sorry-"_

He shook his head in amusement at the beast's apology. "Don't worry about it, okay? ….mm, ohhh…"

A groan burst from his mouth before he could stop himself, and that set off the Hound once again.  _"I broke you, sorry, sorry, sorry…"_

"…what, this?" he chuckled, fighting to sit up against everything that was trying to keep him down. "I'm alright, stupid. This is nothing."

With the Hound's help, he was able to drag himself further down the corridor towards the rooms under the records office, away from the burning virus storage. Most of the flames were licking up at the high walls of the cavern and escaping skyward, thankfully. Not a one of the parasites seemed to have escaped, but he wasn't planning on ever returning to that place again. Taking a second to catch his breath, he finally gathered up the strength to lift his hand and waved at the Hound to come closer, which it did with extreme trepidation. Realizing that his gesture wasn't enough, he tugged enough of the cloth covering his face away so that it could see him more clearly. Not-Three. Not-bad-man. Not-broken.

Sanji's smile widened as it took in his features with bright, glimmering dark eyes and what had to be the most innocent expression conceivable on a monstrous being like it. "You're…in luck, stupid," he breathed and rested his head against the wall wearily. " _Al' Blve and Other Fairie Tales_ was my favorite growing up...and I know all of it by heart."

_Once upon a time…and a time before that…so long ago that no one can quite say when…_

_…there were the Four Seas, eternal and blue and clear….but there was one more, a Fifth, older than all the other Seas and all the Mountains and all the Skies…_

_…that Sea was the Al' Blve…_

* * *

_….it began in the days long departed….so long that we are not sure when…but we know it was in the time long before the Want…_

_…the Seas were there, much like today….only clear and lasting and blue…but no one believes in the Fifth anymore…it was the First originally, before the Rest of the world followed…._

_…we call it the Alle's Bleu…_

"Are you actually reading that kid's book?"

Law set down  _Alle's Bleu and Old Tales_ with a frown and summoned up all of the patience he had left in his body so that he could deal with this new…guest of his. There actually wasn't much of it left. "Yes, and I'm sure everyone in the room finds it just as hilarious as you do."

The rest of the crew either lowered their heads or looked away quickly.

Bellamy didn't notice (or chose not to) the slight edge to his voice and shrugged. "Nah, I used to read those kinds of books all the time growing up. Pretty weird stuff, but fun, in a way. You feeling nostalgic or something?"

He glanced down at the faded blue cover of the fairytale book and thought of his childhood with a faint smile before catching himself. "No, I'm not."

The other pirate stretched with a yawn and spread his arms across the top of the couch he had dropped down on. "So why're you reading that really old crap?"

Law could still feel the draining sensation through the layers of clothing separating the vial in his pocket from his skin; he had confiscated it from Bellamy after the man suggested that one of them just try it to see what it actually was that he swiped from the Dockmaster's offices back on Staithe Wharf. The strange unnatural aura it was giving off had been enough to convince him to turn his ship in the island's direction, but there was something about the label that had consumed his attention entirely.

 _Alleblått_ , he repeated to himself, letting the sound of it roll around in his mind.  _Alle's Bleu. This could be interesting._

Out loud he shrugged and said, "I guess you're right; I was feeling nostalgic after all."

"You act like such a grandma." Bellamy snorted.

"Excuse me? You're a guest on my ship-"

"See what I mean? Grandmaaaa…"

"…shut up, already!"


	19. How to Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A power struggle begins on Staithe Wharf itself, one which Sanji and the others may not survive to see the end of. Nami hits it off with HQ splendidly and there are unseen forces at work behind the scenes of the entire enterprise as everyone gets closer and closer to a final confrontation.

The Alleblått Project could only just begin to make sense to those who truly loved it, and HQ loved the Project with an unshakable passion that was only rivaled by their unshakable hatred of the Key. The Key, however, was a crucial component of the Project, a necessary evil, and so HQ had to make due with seeking it out with interminable patience and keenness in what had to be the most fruitless venture ever carried out by any director of the Project.

That is, until the Key stumbled right into their hands in the most obtuse and unwitting manner possible.

It was truly laughable, and they first thought that there had to be some mistake. The fate of the Project couldn't actually rest on the shoulders of this poor fool, right? He was just too resolutely stupid to have anything to do with Alleblått or HQ at all, and so they let him carry on with his meaningless little pursuits through the Biles and Base AAGE (the other two rogues were to be handled precisely and swiftly to prevent any other uproars). What could he, a dying, broken man, possibly do against the Project?

They underestimated him, a mistake costing decades of progress and HQ's pride in the process, and the idiot didn't even stop there. Barely hanging on to life by a thread, he actually befriended one of the Hounds (those nasty, fiendish brutes that also offended HQ through the matter of merely daring to exist solely to spite them) in what had to be the most astounding turn of events they had ever seen. HQ seethed at the sight of them on the monitors, the Key resting his cheek on the Hound's head, the beast calmer and more serene than all the failed years of discipline and taming had managed to do; this was the extent of the Key's power.

And he had figured it out.

One stupid little fairytale and he knew. Not everything; not all the little minutiae and the fine details, not the hundreds of years of myth and methodologies blended into this perfect design, and never could he begin to fathom just how much blood HQ and their predecessors had shed in order to reach this point, but he knew enough. They knew instantly that they could never allow the Key reach Geone alive.

HQ loved the Project too much to let that happen.

* * *

If there was anyone who could traipse through the forests of Staithe Wharf Island in full formal wear as though going for a stroll in the park, it was the Director of the Biles Hospital and Research Center…or as she still referred to it,  _Il' Etebiuelles Olchs_. "A thousand endless ages." The former directors of the Project discovered something about the name was comforting to the poor hysterical nine-year-old they had brought to the island over thirty years ago because the name stuck, and the slight little wisp of a girl eventually allowed herself to be soothed. Honestly, she couldn't remember why the name was such a balm to her devastated heart, only that it made her think of yellow meadows in the summer.

Nevertheless, none of that mattered to the current situation, which she was determined to help the young man in the Border Guard getup resolve with his friends' lives intact. At first, he tried to help her amble along as though she were infirm or fragile. She put an end to those misconceptions by donning one of her finer gowns and her favorite pumps before leading him down the treacherous forest path like she did this on a regular basis.

Which she did, to be fair, but he didn't need to know that.

Usopp glanced at her sidelong and worried at his lip. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Assuredly, boy," was the curt, tight reply. It was a less than satisfactory response, apparently, and the young man hunched his shoulders suspiciously before giving her a narrow-eyed frown.

"…you know that you were dead a couple of hours ago, right?"

The Director sighed, slowly working her thick, tousled hair into some semblance of a bun, though her hands were still trembling badly enough that it was nowhere nearly as neat as before. Despite the mountain of food she had forced herself to scarf down, it was just enough to keep her from going into shock from the near constant energy exhaustion and regeneration. "It's a convenient side effect of certain…talents of mine. I suppose HQ didn't factor my accelerated healing into their plans, otherwise I'm positive that they would have chosen a concrete, more direct manner of assassinating me."

Usopp gaped at her wordlessly for several moments.

"There are ways to assassinate someone in a concrete, more direct manner than by setting bloodthirsty wild hounds on them?" he croaked, letting his foot catch on an upturned tree root in his distress.

"For someone with an ability like mine, yes. The earlier directors knew of it, seeing as they looked after me from a young age, but for some reason this knowledge doesn't seem to have been passed on to HQ." She furrowed her brow and led him up a high, rocky pathway that would require more energy to climb but at least offered a steadier foothold and less tree roots and stumbles. Pausing to let him catch up, partly so that she herself could catch her breath, the Director pressed her lips together and brushed her fingertips lightly across the blue spirals spilling over her back. "They claimed that those experiments were for my own good and safety, though I never quite figured out if it was truly worth finding out."

Usopp had been trying to avoid openly staring at the tattoos across her back, but then something about the skin underneath the swirling patterns registered another memory in his mind. The scar on Nami's shoulder was of a different nature, but even then the healed skin on the Director's back reminded him of the crew's injuries that had reluctantly faded with time after they returned from Skypiea. He was suddenly very aware of what kind of experiments these "directors" must have subjected the young Director to.

"Whether or not they actually helped you, they…were wrong," he said simply because anything else would have been useless and untrue. No one deserved to have that kind of torture thrust upon them, especially not a child who knew no better than the treatment she got in her upbringing. "The tattoos are really awesome, though. Like ocean waves."

His words seemed to lighten her spirits and changed something in her troubled expression. A soft smile hovered at her mouth as she nodded in affirmation. "Yes, that's exactly it. 'There exists nothing under the sun that a little saltwater cannot heal.' It's an antiquated pirate saying, as odd as that sounds."

"Pirate saying? You don't seem like the type."

Her smile became truly bright.

"I don't? Well, that may be true, but sh-…the first and dearest friend I have known was. Duparis didn't seem like much to me at first, but as time wore on I could have sworn we had met in another lifetime…he knew me well."

Usopp clambered up the sharp slope to reach her vantage point over the rushing river below and found that they were gazing out at the spot where only the previous evening he and Franky had been ambushed by the Border Guard. "You befriended a pirate?"

"One of the common rabble," she crowed with a twinkle in her dark eyes, "and yet nothing like any other pirate I ever met before. Duparis was the good-natured, easy-going sort, but he was also the reason that I turned on my masters when I did. Together, we raised hell for Project Alleblått, and together…we became family."

"Sounds like someone else I know," he muttered in amusement, thinking of all the trouble that Luffy dragged his own crew into. He was starting to realize how much he missed his friends right now; it felt like forever and a day since they had last seen each other. "Wait, you said that you used to…what happened to him?"

The Director's wistful smile almost turned into a grimace, but she quickly schooled her features into a calm, blank mask. "…I did say he was relaxed and laid-back, but the Project is a vicious thing, and while I had the good fortune to meet him through it, he had the misfortune of getting tangled up in it."

 _Like Sanji,_  Usopp thought _. Like Luffy and the crew and everyone back on the port who got tricked into attacking each other while they did their underhanded work._ Out loud he said, "You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to."

She shook her head quietly, expression just as resigned as her tone by now. "I'm fine; it's been so long now, but..."

"Maybe you won't believe me, but I get it," he said, settling down on the edge of the cliff as they peered around for a way down to the river below. "Some days it just feels raw all over again."

"…you lost someone too, didn't you?"

There was a pause, and in the next moment, hesitation in his voice. "My mother. It's stupid because I know there's nothing I could do to change what happened to her, but I just can't help but wonder."

"I suppose you're right. I never knew anyone well enough for their loss to ever hurt me, and yet it still wasn't enough to temper the blow I received at the news of what happened." From the look on her face, the news had been devastating.

He glanced up at her with a curious expression and tried to move the topic along to a less unpleasant train of thought. "How did Duparis get involved in this mess?"

"He had something they wanted; incidentally, it was also his treasure. When Alleblått forced his hand to make him yield to their ruthless conditions, it seemed like they really would get their way…but Duparis gave them back every scheming, manipulative tactic tenfold. They wanted to steal his treasure, so he took theirs instead."

"That must have been some treasure."

"One Piece itself couldn't hope to compare." The Director looked torn between grief and happiness as she spoke next, her voice a soft, cracking rasp as she held back tears. "They say that he paid dearly for every last bit of it, in every which way they could think of…but I heard he was smiling in the end."

Usopp couldn't help the gradual smile on his face; nothing, it seemed, got between a pirate and his treasure, not even deadly clandestine organizations that eliminated people through extremely vicious ways. It also gave him hope that they could also pull one over the Project and their mysterious intentions, or even defeat them for good and banish them from the island.  _They can be hurt; it's just a matter of figuring out what's going to affect them._

The Director seemed to read his thoughts and shook her head with a tense look in her eyes. "The best thing you can do is rescue your friends and leave this place forever. It's not worth getting involved any further."

"But I-"

"Please. Forget what you've seen and heard here and just let history stay in the past. I've done my best to avoid contact with the Project and so should you."

And then she fell silent, brushing with feigned casualness at her cheeks with the back of her hand while Usopp stared in the direction of the tower and tried to think of something to say or do to ease the painful quiet between them. He understood the choking emptiness that came with the loss of a loved one, and he also knew the frustration and helplessness of being unable to do anything for them at all. But he also realized that though time should have healed some things, neither the Director nor this island would get any true peace until this entire project was put out of commission.

"Hey…I don't know if it means much to you yet, but my captain and crew aren't going to stop until Project Alleblått is completely beaten and gone from Staithe. Luffy is definitely someone you can count on to come through for you, so don't worry. We'll back you no matter what!"

She looked at him in shock, red-rimmed eyes bright and wide as she searched his face for the truth. Vaguely, he wondered if she had seen him for the liar that he really was, but at the moment he couldn't have lied if he wanted to. This whole project had been rubbing off wrong on him since he first saw them lock Sanji up back at the port like he was a criminal instead of a patient, and with everything they had done against his friends (and even their own allies and subordinates), he couldn't say that he was inclined to put in a good word for them to his captain. Luffy could go to town on this entire island and he wouldn't feel sorry for them at all.

The Director pursed her lips, eyes narrowed with suspicion and hesitation (almost like fear, even). "You're willing to risk everything for an island of people with a bloody history that you just met?"

"We do this on every island," Usopp grinned and hoped that his wavering confidence was enough to sway her. "It's bound to happen one way or another. Deal?"

Her lips curved into a feeble smile. "Strangely enough, I believe you."

Usopp laughed sheepishly and felt a certain pride at everything that his crew had accomplished so far. It was definitely a Straw Hat Pirate thing. "So…do we have a deal?"

"We do." As an afterthought, the Director raised a finger to her lips in consideration and added, "thank you, Usopp."

"Geez, it's nothing, really. I mean, even though I  _am_ …is that tree over there smoking or something?"

The Director's eyes widened as she glanced in the direction he was frowning at. "The tower…they've set the storages on fire!"

" _Crap_." Usopp followed her down the steep slope towards the river and prayed that he wouldn't fall over on his way down. "Crap, oh man; wait, is that a good thing or are you just smiling because you're terrified?"

Her laughter would have been contagious had he known what the hell was going on in the first place. "I'm not sure myself, but no one on base would do something as foolhardy as that! It has to be your friends!"

… _Franky and Sanji…_ he just hoped that he could get there in time to help them.  _Please, please don't start a war down there alone. How the hell are we going to get out in one piece now?_

* * *

The caverns beneath the old records office held the dark, ominous rooms with the eerie sea-tide echoes and the blackened, blood-encrusted cages that had terrified him out of his wits when he first climbed down there; he would never have thought to return to that place if it hadn't been the only exit left for him and the Hound after he blew the virus storage chambers sky high. As it was, the passageway behind the broken doors marked DO NOT OPEN led to a single, solitary place, and this was it. They ended up in one of the main cages after the Hound, giving him an excited chirrup and pouncing into the piles of bloodstained rags in the corner, urged him to come join it ( _her_ , she was without a doubt a  _she_ , as it was the only label that she responded happily to after  _it_  became just too impersonal and cold for him to use anymore).

"This place gives me chills," Sanji muttered restlessly as he peeled the plastic covering off the bandages he had swiped from the Gorgot surgeries' supplies room. Amazingly, the wrapping had held against the dark waters in the virus room. After checking them to make sure that they were still safe to use, he beckoned the Hound over so that he could take a look at the wound on her shoulder. "Here we go…no, hold still, baby; it's okay…I just want to-  _whoa_!"

" _I don't want to!"_

Sanji caught her hands in front of her and gave her a stern glare, ignoring the weak trickle of blood running down his cheek. One of her talons had caught him across the jaw. "You're not being a good guppy, stupid."

She whimpered and settled down quickly. It wasn't like he had exerted a great deal of force on her (not that he had any energy left for that), but something in his voice chastened her enough that she actually listened to him.  _"…it hurts…I don't want to…"_

"I know you're scared," he said gently, letting his fingertips brush against the skin near the wound and taking a good look at the damage that the parasite had caused, "and I know that it hurts, but I'm going to make it better. I promise, guppy."

" _You promise?"_

"Absolutely. Now, come over here and stop shaking so much, okay?"

Some of her scales had been torn out after she yanked the parasite from her shoulder in her panic, and he could see the bright red blood pooled in the wound underneath the jagged remains of her rough skin. It took some time, patience, and a whole lot of resolve to keep her cooperative through the whole process, but in the end he was left with a lap full of one very happy, neatly patched up sea beast and several broken scales in his hand. If he remembered correctly, once her skin had healed up properly she would grow back the scales that she had lost here. That was if he could make sure that she was kept clean and out of any more rough scrapes with enemies like the damned parasites.

"That's better, isn't it?" he sighed as she wrapped her arms around his waist and murmured in a fond, contented tone,  _"you fixed me better, yes-yes…"_. It was almost too easy to forget that her sharp, ridged scales were digging into his skin when she was being this affectionate and childlike. Resting his cheek on her head, he played with the long, brown-green tendrils hanging like hair around her fearsome face and smiled softly at how outlandish yet befitting she was of her sea beast status. "Now, you have to promise me that you won't touch it or get anything in it until it heals, okay? That's a good guppy."

She immediately dropped her hands away from the edge of the bandages she had started picking at curiously and looked to him expectantly. A creature with such bizarre features and characteristics had no right in looking that innocent, and yet somehow the little guppy managed to do just that.  _"I got fixed better so we got to fix you better now too."_

Sanji smiled weakly as she shifted her weight off him and nudged the leftover bandages towards him. "Thanks, but…there's no point anymore."

" _I have points,"_  she claimed proudly, gesturing at her mouth. Oh, she meant her teeth. They were impressive, he assured her. To his horror, she proceeded to try to rip out one of those "points" for him to have.  _"Here, you need a point, right?"_

" _Oh_   _no-no-no_ , let's not do that. It's okay, I don't need it."

" _But you said there's no point anymore, so I have to give you one."_

"It's fine, I…have points here too. See?" Sanji gestured at his own forced smile, which didn't seem to impress her much, but she let the subject drop once she noticed his canines.

" _You do have a point, silly_."

He moved to stand up on reluctant, exhausted feet and legs that didn't feel like they belonged to him anymore; it was only the sea beast at his side that kept him from collapsing immediately at the shock of pain that came with putting weight on his feet again. When he couldn't bear it anymore he let himself fall back against the wall with a groan and focused on just standing still. Guppy tried to help him at first, but he was too out-of-it to pay her any attention until his head finally stopped spinning long enough for him to glance in her direction.

"Hey," he croaked, frowning at what she was doing at the other end of the wall. Failing to get his attention, she had gotten distracted and was now smearing big, dark strokes of blood from God-knows-where on the dank walls of the room. "What in the world are you doing over there, Guppy?"

" _Painting."_

"What?"

He stared tiredly at the marks on the wall until his blurred vision allowed him to decipher her crude writing. "… _good stupid?_  Is that the name you think I gave you?"

Her excited scribbling told him that this was in fact what she thought. With a chuckle he looked around the room to see what else she had come up with. The sight of her other names made his heart drop.

_Hounds. Sea Dogs. Nightmare. Death._

Near the base of the wall, written in a shakier, unsteady hand, was the simple word,  _MONSTER._

"Y-you…wrote those?"

" _I made my name here and there and over here, see? That one is what HQ calls me, see there?"_

At first, Sanji didn't know what to do with himself. That these people did nothing but drill it into this little baby that it was frightening, repulsive, and hateful from the start was nothing more than the most rage-inspiring thought he could imagine at the moment. He would have screamed if he had any breath left in him to fuel his anger. He knew that though he had planned to destroy as much of HQ's plans from the start, he was really going to regret not being able to confront them for everything they had done. He wasn't even going to be able to look after the little sea beast, and something about leaving her to fend for herself against HQ and their people's cruelty frightened him.

Doing the best that he could, Sanji dragged himself to the wall and leaned quietly against the sea beast baby, who glanced down at him with a startled expression. Then, without preamble of any kind, he smeared a good, long streak of his own blood over the scrawled words on the wall, promising himself that there would never be any need for her to answer to any of them ever again.

She was confused and worried.  _"Not monster?"_

"…no, not monster," he promised, using a patch of blank wall to write in his own word: Guppy. "Never again."

" _Never ever?"_

"Never ever ever."

Her mouth twisted into a terrifyingly toothy smile, but he could see that she was honestly happy about everything he had said. The more he thought about it, despite her size and ferocity, the more he could see that she really  _was_  nothing more than a baby. Satisfied with his answer, she pointed him to the door and gave an excited cry.  _"I'm Guppy! Come on! We have to tell the twits! Come!"_

"The twits?" Sanji raised a brow in confusion before staggering back to his feet with great difficulty. "Who are the twits, Guppy?"

The other cages looked as empty as before, upon first glance. He remembered how badly they had scared him earlier and hesitated at the door, but Guppy hauled him onward happily, calling out to the "twits" as they made their way deeper into the caverns. His body was screaming at him to stop at this point; his nerves were alight with electricity beyond what even Enel was capable of. He was sure that he would never stop trembling, not for the rest of his life.

"I-I need a break," he said hoarsely, unaware for a moment that Guppy had bound forward and left him leaning against the damp wall. She splashed somewhere at the edge of the water, a flooded, sunken part of the cage that looked like a pool to another world. Tired, he sank to his knees and watched her for a while. If he ignored the pain shrieking through his very bones, he could have almost felt content.

Of course, that didn't last very long. The unusual warmth of his body, which he had first thought was fever, turned out to be one very solid lump of heat sitting right next to him. Not really trusting his own senses anymore, he felt out the lump and was shocked when the warm, scaly mass had a mind of its own. He yelped and jumped back, forgetting all about his injuries as the creature raised its...heads? Three curious pairs of eyes, burning and bright like molten rock, looked at him with mild surprise, and then all three heads took their turn rubbing against his hand before laying down one by one in his lap. Sanji was left smiling uncertainly, Guppy looked pleased, and the strange new beast yawned three times, simultaneously.

"Hello, twit," Guppy said cheerfully, patting the sea beast's rough, scaly skin with a gentleness he hadn't expected from her. "This is Not-three. He knows the All Blue."

He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck, dropping his hand down to rub the "twit's" heads when it grumbled in protest. "You can just call me Sanji."

"He does not talk." Guppy's smile looked fit to light the daytime sky. "But he...we like your name. It is so lovely, Sadijio."

"Um…" Sanji wondered if he had enough left in him to correct her. Even that sounded exhausting to him. Luckily, the other twit decided the matter for him.

A movement in the water caught his attention, the ripples on the pool's surface becoming little bubbles, frothing like the sea upon the shore. Then, a timid pink tendril emerged from the middle of it, feeling out the hand he had closest to the water's edge. Sanji bit back a nervous laugh as he closed his fingers around it; the feeler was soft and feathery along one edge, forming a sort of little ridge on it. One by one, the rest of it emerged, a pretty, jelly-like sea beast with sleepy eyes and skin that felt finer than velvet and silk.

"Hi, baby," he smiled, enjoying the tiny ticklish feel of those tendrils on his much-abused hands. "What's your name?"

Guppy stared at him like he had just sprouted another head (considering the first twit's triad of heads, he didn't think that was fair). "She does not have one. They are both just twits."

"Did no one give any of you a name?" Their perplexed silence was answer enough; he really shouldn't have expected any better from anyone who would lock a real, living, feeling creature in a place like this.

Sanji stared at the first twit's jagged, uneven form and the way his body seemed to glow and burn within the gaps between his large scales. His eyes burned even brighter when he gave him his name. Fry, for the intense heating hiding just beneath the surface of his skin.  _He's also a bit of a small fry, too._  He was still so delighted by the second twit's soft, undefined shape, with all of its luminescent lines and curves, and the way she took to hiding in the water, making the water bubble just along the surface. Sweet, shy Bubbles.

Guppy, for her part, was nearly floored beyond words. Of course, she wouldn't be Guppy if she didn't have something to say to this at all. "I told you, I did! Sanji knows things. He gave us names!"

"I'm not anything special," he chuckled, holding his arms open for another of her enthusiastic hugs. "I just thought you deserved a real name."

"You know the All Blue too! HQ does not, no no no."

Sanji was surprised at how easy it was for him to smile still, even after everything he had been through. The pain had become as much of a constant as the grief in his heart, though the heartbreak was worse. But he could still smile for the sea beasts. "Do you want me to tell you the story again?"

He shouldn't have even wasted his breath with that question; it seemed that the only thing that could have made them happier was if he had opened the Gates of Al' Blve themselves. Squirming and climbing and clinging, they settled around him to listen, attentive in a way that suggested they knew how badly off he was. Had it not been for them, with Guppy leaning him upright, his strength waning with every passing second, with Fry's warmth at his cold, cold feet as the circulation left him, and Bubbles soothing the burns on his skin with shy little touches and caresses, he was sure that he wouldn't have made it to the great lengths he did, even then.

He began:

" _Once upon a time…and a time before that…so long ago that no one can quite say when…_

… _there were the Four Seas, eternal and blue and clear…but there was one more, a Fifth, older than all the other Seas and all the Mountains and all the Skies…_

… _that Sea was the Al' Blve…_

_The world was water, sea upon sea four times, whole and new and yet already older than time. They were as one then, the Four Seas without Borders, and they were the original Fifth which was once the First. It was not as it is now, for the Mountains and the Skies came later to divide the world into its parts, but a water so dark and sweet and flush with salt that it brimmed all the way to the Stars._

_The Al' Blve came from them, of course, and they conversed into the long hours of time even before the Skies came. This was the way that Love entered the world, all along the shallows. There the first life came to be, the children of the Al' Blve and the Stars. They were striking and fierce and frightening, and there was nothing more beautiful than they._

_All of the children lived together and there was Harmony in the world, such that it joined them as one according to their beloved, some by pairs, others in threes, and still there were ones that used to be a multitude. No one could tell where one ended and the other began; that was Love, and Harmony joined them. It was Al' Blve that had the voice for them, the eyes for them, the hands for them, these monstrous creatures of beauty that once ruled the sea. But it was the Love and Harmony between Al' Blve and the Stars that had formed them. So were the children of the sea, beings unimaginable that populated the waters; they were made of Love and shared arms, legs, tails, and heads according to that bond of Harmony. This was good to them; it was unthinkable that any one of them would be alone without another. The children that came after the dividing of the world do not understand this, though they did not forget Love. These were the last children, the ones that walk alone through the world in search of that Love, but by then the Harmony had been lost._

_When the Skies opened, there was a wound left in the sea from the loss of Harmony, for the Stars were now beyond the First's reach. Grief-stricken, Al' Blve called upon the Mountains to take the pain away; that is why the Mountains are red for the blood that they took from the wound in the world. So the Mountains divided the First into Four, the Four Blues were formed from the Fifth which was the First._

_Before the Al' Blve disappeared, they passed the secret to the place of the beginning of the world to the last children, the Witches that accidentally caused the creation of other peoples out of carelessness with that gift (but that is another story). Then the Al' Blve_ _opened the Gates of the World and was entombed forever to forget their grief, taking the Sea Beasts, the first children, with them. That is where hunger ceases to exist, where food and life and plenitude flourish more than in the Four Blues, for the Four Blues came from this and all the fishes and living creatures according to their species emerged from that place._

_Only the Witches know the secret place, and only they can bring the Fifth to return from beyond the Gates of the World, to make the Seas as one again._

_It is said that one holds the Key to bringing the Harmony back, too."_

Sanji felt as if he had been struck by lightning, even as he forced himself to finish the story in stammering, exhausted breaths. To imagine that he would come across this story,  _his_ story, in the form of Project Alleblått. All of the propaganda and manuals and crap...he had thought they were just incompetently vague, just useless ideological literature. But certain terms and phrases kept cropping up, within the text and in snippets of conversation and in those annoying bulletins broadcasted from time to time.  _Alle blått, Al' Blve._   _Peace, Harmony for the Four Blues. The border guard. Five cities like the five seas. The Key. And the Sea Beasts..._

The sea beasts, for all of their childlike mannerisms, had killed people before. Even with his blurred eyesight, he wasn't blind to the evidence. For God's sake, he was sitting on a pile of bloodstained human clothing like it was a downy comforter in his bunk. And yet they were already so fond of him.

_In the story, the Key goes on to free the Sea Beasts and resurrect the Fifth which was the First, the Al' Blve of the Old World. But the Key inherits the First's voice and eyes and hands for the Beasts, their children. The First Sea's power, both creation and destruction of the world, becomes the Key's, and the Beasts swear undying loyalty to it. They reworked parts of the story to fit but all the wishy-washy nonsense is code for the actual Project: to control the real Sea Beasts._

And he was certain that this was HQ's real desire; the possibilities presented by a group of powerful creatures under their control were endless. They were still small, but if this was the size of a juvenile, then the sea beasts would be a terrifying force, fully grown and properly trained. Even the way they were already being treated, like monsters and weapons and killing machines, was a reflection of the way HQ thought. Alleblått...All Blue was just a silly fairytale front that wouldn't make sense without all the pieces. Sanji would have found it hard to believe himself if he hadn't devoured the Al' Blve stories as a child, hungry for the magic of "The First" and its children.

However it happened, HQ and the Project had marked him as "the Key", and he imagined that they wouldn't stop until they had figured out why the sea beasts had calmed to him. Honestly, Sanji wasn't sure himself; Guppy had almost bisected him earlier before the parasites attacked them. If it was something inside of him, he couldn't say exactly what it was...but he would die before he let HQ touch the sea beasts (the  _Hounds-Sea Dogs-Nightmares-Death-MONSTERS_  that they had despised so much) ever again.

Sanji set his jaw.

He would die.

* * *

His extraneous parts were the first to go, and though he was sorry to see the loss of some of his favorite creations and modifications, Franky knew that he had no time to spare on repairing anything that wasn't going to be of immediate use. Replacing the hinge on his left arm's cannon with a grunt, he took a quick peer around the corner and made sure that the dim hallway outside Control was completely empty before he made his next move.

Control was just where Old Man Jans (who actually  _did_  look remarkably like a winter island version of Usopp, down to the nose and the sunglasses) said it would be. Though Franky had some misgivings about taking advice from one of the Border Guards, this was the best lead that he had so far.

"Well, this and that really weird doctor from the cafeteria," he muttered to himself as he picked the lock on the door with a finesse that would have made Nami swell with pride (she was turning out to be an excellent mentor in the arts of thievery and money-grubbing).

He could have been walking straight into a trap, a dead end, or something else entirely, though Old Man Jans seemed uninterested in anything but getting the crazy blue-haired cyborg mechanic out of his workshop as soon as possible. Setting Franky up for any trouble was probably the last thing on his mind.

Or at least, Franky hoped it was.

Within a matter of seconds he was safely inside the room and away from any prying glances that might be lurking around this sector, though he had seen nobody else enter the restricted area of Base AAGE since Old Man Jans dumped him at the main door and stalked off with nothing more than a series of extremely irritable grumbles. It came to him that he should have asked why exactly the man (who was neither old nor even named Jans) knew where the main control center for the base was, but that kind of curiosity was better saved for another time. Usopp had been gone for a while now, there was still no word on whether Sanji was alive or not, and Franky had never been the type to just sit around and wait for the answers to fall into his lap. The control room was one of the likelier places to start searching, and that was how he found himself looking on an entire room full of surveillance equipment, with a larger monitor projecting image after image from all the different sectors of the base and the surrounding forest.

Franky stared at the transponder snails lined up on the shelves, from floor to ceiling. Suddenly it made sense how these people had known their movements from the start. He grinned wryly and picked up one of the smaller snails near the corner, wondering what he should do with this knowledge. The logical choice was, of course, to cut off their signal and give himself and Usopp the freedom to move around without monitoring for as long as possible before the Project people found out and fixed everything again.

"But first…let's take a look at the Medics' quarters again," he said as he fiddled with a few of the controls, trying to find the right transponder to connect to. "They definitely know more than they're letting on…"

It was while he was switching between the commons feed (he cringed as he imagined the recording of his response to Slate's behavior at the bar being saved on any one of these tapes) and the live feed coming in from the main entrance to the base that he came across the snail for the Hounds.

Franky stared at the blurry images coming in live, second by second, from a dark, murky cave-like place, lined with filthy rooms and cages that looked like they housed something very dangerous…or unwanted. There was smoke filtering in across the view from an unknown source, but if he was careful he could just make out the faint outline of one of the monstrous beasts that the base personnel had been talking about.

 _Wow, that is one scary beast…I'd hate to come across that thing._  A smaller figure next to it, leaning heavily against its side and struggling with each labored step, caught his attention. It could have been any person, anyone at all (heck, it could have been HQ for all he knew), but Franky knew his friend's mannerisms well, and when the figure raised his hands like he was reaching up to light a cigarette before he realized that he didn't even have one, a broad, excited laugh filled his chest.

"Oh my  _God_ …Sanji, you damn lucky bastard; how the hell did you get yourself all the way here?"

Before he could jump up out of his seat to crash wildly through the base looking for him, the sound of a ticker from one of the snails made him stop in his tracks. He frowned at the thin little strip of paper that the snail's device printed out.

LOCATE AND TERMINATE KEY IMMEDIATELY, REPORT TO HQ.

The message was signed by someone who went simply by 'Echo', and there was no return number on it. Franky sat there for several minutes trying to plot out his next move. Whoever this message was meant for, they knew what the key was and probably had control over all the communications between this base and wherever the people in charge, HQ and whatever bastard 'Echo' was, and they would probably also know how to interpret this order from these people.

"What the heck is the key and why do they need to…" Franky scowled when he thought about Twelve's hints and the earlier broadcasts from the base control. The patrols in the woods last night had definitely had a specific target in mind, and that target had been in the general area of the hospital.  _Sanji_.

He didn't need to think about it any longer. With a furious slam and a wild glance around the room, Franky found the power source and cut the signal from the control booth entirely, leaving the headquarters at Geone in the dark for several fateful minutes.

It was in those minutes that everything took an unexpected turn, but whether it was for the better or not would still await to be determined.

 

 

* * *

The silence in the room was palpable to the point where Zoro could have cut through it with one of his swords like iron.

"…HQ," Chopper muttered from his seat in front of the transponder snail, "You're the one that the Dockmaster said runs the entire virus thing."

" _That is correct, Tony Tony Chopper. I am the chief administrator of the Project based on Staithe Wharf; it is agreeable to finally have the opportunity to speak to our 'key' interest's former associates."_

Luffy bristled and struggled harder against Brook's hold when he pieced together who the woman was talking about. "Oi, what did you do to Sanji, lady? Why are you tricking people into taking poison and then kidnapping them from their crews, huh?  _Where is my friend?_ "

" _Captain Luffy, I would respectfully suggest that you compose yourself before we continue our conversation, as it will be most beneficial for both of our purposes. Now, about-"_

Chopper interrupted her with a slight frown on his face. "I never said anything about who I am and you still know my name. How did you find that out and where did you get the Sunny's number?"

" _For those who seek information, there are always endless springs and wells to look into…are there not, Miss Nico Robin? Roronoa Zoro?"_

Zoro exchanged a glance with Robin, who was getting paler by the second as she ran through the countless methods that HQ could have used to collect information on their crew. She personally had prior experience with espionage, but even that wasn't necessary to realize that their public exposure among the bounty hunters, World Government embassies, and even the inhabitants of the islands in all four seas made them an easy target for anyone who had even a fiber of interest in meddling with pirates. Zoro had a minimal amount of experience with the information circuits across the bounty hunters' range, but he was familiar with the system too. While he never minded people looking into his personal profile, he could tell that Robin was deeply unsettled by the mere thought of it. She had probably wanted to keep a low profile here, and now this woman revealed that she might have dug up a lot of information on them all, while they knew practically nothing in comparison.

For a woman who was once a little girl in a world where even the slightest leak of information could mean her death, the current situation was terrifying.

Zoro clenched his jaw and growled at the receiver, "We get it; you know who we are, we barely get a name in return. Why are you calling us here, other than to rub it in our faces?"

" _Ah, someone who wants to get right down to business. Excellent, Pirate Hunter. Regardless of what you may think of me, I do have a purpose in making contact with your ship today."_

Brook narrowed his eyes; there was something unnatural and just plain wrong about the woman's voice, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it yet. "And that would be, Miss HQ? Your tone suggests an ulterior motive behind what you're about to tell us."

"… _very keen ears, Humming Swordsman. Forgive me if you do not go by that anymore; some of that information was difficult to come by and may be dated."_

"It's not like I have any ears to speak of, so you're right on that part," he replied in a forced light tone, tapping his foot impatiently like he was working the pedal on his beloved piano. "Maybe your information collecting isn't as spot-on as you would have us believe."

" _Plausible,"_  was the irritated acknowledgement, and then she turned her attention to someone else entirely.  _"Now, Miss Nami; I have a proposition to make to your captain and crew, but I have on good testimony that you are the one who prefers to handle the crew's finances?"_

Nami looked startled to be singled out from among the crew, but she bravely stepped forward and spoke loudly enough that her voice was caught by the receiver. "Yes, this is she. What kind of proposition are you suggesting, HQ?"

At that same instant, Issok's call commanded their attention to the main deck and away from the Den Den Mushi, which must have been what HQ planned because she simply gave a quiet, even chuckle at the navigator's words: "Luffy! Everyone, you need to come outside  _right now_."

Luffy scowled at the snail and then looked back up to the deck. "Issok, we're having words with a stalker lady! Can you wait?"

Thaddeus' voice came down next. "Luffy, whoever that is on the transponder with you…she planned things out very well. If you need it, we'll provide cover while you-"

At this, Luffy tore free of Brook's and Robin's grasp and stormed up the stairs with an incredulous look on his face. He probably realized what the Lathos captain was about to suggest and had taken it as an affront to himself personally.

Before any of the others could make to follow him, they heard him reach the deck and draw himself up for a confrontation.

" _Idiots!"_  he roared with all the breath he had in his lungs, and they could just imagine the proud, tall stance he had taken in order to address their attackers.  _"I am not going to run from any of you!"_

Zoro and Brook went for the stairwell as soon as their captain's voice thundered overhead, with Robin close at their heels and ready for whatever was waiting for them above deck. Nami and Chopper hesitated a second longer, still concerned with the call they had on the line, but HQ's voice quickly resolved the issue for them.

" _Bring the transponder snail upstairs, and I shall disclose the terms of our contract in full with everyone. Be quick; I'm sure all of you have your own plans for the day, after all."_

Nami hated the haughty, dismissive tone of hers, but she did as she was told and dragged Chopper and the Den Den Mushi up onto the main deck, where the sight of a field of pirate ships was waiting for the last two members of the crew.

The navigator almost dropped the snail and  _did_  let Chopper fall to the ground in a heap.

"Ow, wha-?" His eyes were wide with disbelief. "…it's the pirates who attacked us on the harbor…"

Everyone was ready and tensed for battle, but the pirate crews from the conflict on Staithe Wharf were just standing there as though waiting for a signal. The captain of the lead group was staring down at Luffy in the way he would look at something disgusting smeared across the bottom of his shoe.

"Brat, tell the witch that we're here and waiting for orders, like she asked," he sneered and tapped his fingers on the grip of his pistol.

Luffy stared back impassively.

"Oi, hurry it up; I don't have all fucking day."

The swordsman standing behind Luffy gave a snort of derision at the man's presumption. "You really think we're going to be the middleman in this conversation? Say whatever it is that you want and pray that she can hear you, bastard."

"Why you-"

" _Gentlemen, please. I have full awareness of everything that is going on out there, so do be patient as I expound on the terms of our contract with the Straw Hats."_

HQ's voice somehow carried out over the water, but before anyone could question the suddenly amplified abilities of their transponder, she returned to Nami to continue their earlier conversation.  _"Ah, yes. Miss Nami, I wished to speak to you about our agreement?"_

"We haven't agreed to anything," she retorted quickly, feeling more and more uneasy about what was coming. "Just spit it out; what's this proposition you have?"

She could just imagine the wicked, self-satisfied smirk on HQ's face; it made her blood boil just to think about it.

" _Our proposition: We at the Project would extend our sincerest gratitude for your service in furthering the aims of the organization; in exchange we allow you to depart from this place with your lives and ship intact. Now, our associates here are your ready and willing escorts-"_ the leader of the pirates grimaced a bit but said nothing _"-out of Staithe Wharf's general waters; if you try anything they will retaliate accordingly. Is that understood?"_

Robin was the first one who found her voice first; she spoke carefully to probe at HQ's intentions, knowing that Luffy was anything but in agreement with what she had to say. "That's a foresight on your part, HQ, and we would be happy to leave…just as soon as our comrades return to the ship safe and sound."

" _You're an intelligent woman, Nico Robin, and I'm sure you understood the implications of my offer. Leave peaceably now with your lives or face dying out here where no one will find even a scrap of your ship."_

"You're suggesting that we leave our friends behind for good, is what I'm understanding from your 'offer'," Robin said quietly, her mouth a thin, sharp line that was inching closer and closer to a full-out scowl. "That hardly seems like a proposition; it's starting to feel like an ultimatum."

" _Not all of your crewmates need to stay on the island; the shipwright and your sharpshooter can return on their own terms. Whether or not they survive is another thing entirely."_

Luffy's eyes flashed dangerously. "You want me to give you Sanji only."

" _Correction: the 'key' interest already belongs to the Project. You were simply returning it to me. And to further demonstrate that I am not as unjust and cold as you wish to believe, my associates brought proper compensation for your aid in this endeavor."_

This was where everything became incredibly real and in sharp focus to Nami, who had never imagined that she could ever be insulted so brutally by a complete stranger in her life. The chest was considerably sized, of course, and all of the money was there, down to the single last beli, but the sight of so much money had never filled her with such revulsion and hatred.

Years ago, when Nami was still a naïve little girl who had yet to know the true extent of love and happiness, she learned that the worth of a life could be put into monetary value, specifically one hundred thousand belis. She grew up and realized what a paltry amount it actually was, not because it was easy to come by nor truly trivial change, but because she found herself staring at a case full of belis on her bed in Arlong Park and asked herself why it still wasn't enough to give her back the one woman who she (could have/would have/should have) called "mother". Bile rose up in her throat as she compared that moment to today, and she found that her situation really hadn't changed all that much.

"This is…" she whispered tightly, feeling her throat clench up in protest. "This is the worth of a life?"

This was the worth of Sanji's life in the eyes of the Marines and the world itself, and in the eyes of this awful, hateful woman named HQ, and several other amounts of money could similarly be placed in front of her in exchange for her friends with that same callous disregard. It was enough to make her blood run cold.

" _-waiting for an answer. Captain, I must inform you that your lack of propriety is reflecting poorly on the generosity that I am willing to extend towards your crew."_

She realized that the conversation had carried on without her, and desperation took hold of her as Luffy and the others railed against HQ furiously. If she didn't do something now, she was afraid that she would break down completely.

Striding purposefully towards the side of the ship, ignoring the looks she got from the rest of her crew and Thaddeus' men, Nami drew her Clima-Tact without a word and released the most powerful attack she could think of in the heat of the moment. The thunderbolt splintered the very air around all of them, striking the enemy pirates' ship cleanly in the middle where the chest lay innocuously. It burst completely and let the money spill across the fractured deck and into the choppy waves waiting below. All seventy-seven million belis were lost to the furious ocean tide in the moments after Nami's split second decision and her attack.

The pirate captain on the opposite ship was livid.  _"What the hell?"_

HQ's voice was icy and carefully measured.  _"Rejecting the money was an ill-advised move on your part, but the manner in which you slighted my generosity is something I will not forgive, Miss Nami."_

But her captain and crew were looking at her in open admiration and pride, and that was enough for her. Grinning widely, Nami stood resolute on the starboard side and faced the approaching battle-hungry pirates with a plan already formulating in her head. "Luffy, everyone; I'm going to trust all of you to be alive and in one piece so that you can join me and those idiots on the island, okay?"

Luffy laughed and nodded with an almost feverish excitement in his face; it was the first time he had truly smiled in days. "I like the sound of that, Nami."

Zoro smirked and drew his three blades with a battle-ready air. "We'll clear the path for you, stupid, so just go on ahead and focus on staying out of trouble until we get there."

One by one, her friends and even the Lathos pirates stepped forward to back her up; it might have been a hasty, foolhardy, and dangerous decision, but Nami knew that she would not regret what she had just done. How could she ever, when that woman had slapped them in the face with an insult like that?

No, she was heading back for her crewmates, her friends, on the island herself, and nothing this woman and her lackeys said or did would ever be enough to dissuade her. "Hey, HQ…"

The woman's voice almost sounded sullen.  _"You will regret this, Miss Nami."_

"Mm, I don't think so.  _You'd_  better watch your back when I get back to Staithe; if I ever come across you on the island, there are no guarantees that I won't kick your ass for even  _daring_  to suggest buying my friend off of me. That was an insult to Sanji, that was an insult to me and my crew…I don't even think you realize your mistake, do you?"

" _You may try, but all of you just lost your chance to escape with your lives, and the Key will stay with me. That I can promise you."_

"We'll see, HQ. And one more thing: if I ever  _did_  want my friends' bounties for myself, I would get my hands on it the honest way, by stealing it from under your nose.  _All_  of their bounties.  _My friends are not for sale_."

With that, the conversation was over, and Issok hung up the receiver with an air of finality and laughed out loud. "That's a wrap, and you were brilliant, Nami! Go get that witch and all those bastards back on that damned island!"

Nami felt like her face would split from how widely she was smiling; there was nothing more satisfying and freeing than throwing that insult back into HQ's face the way she had done to them. It was why as she raced the waver across the water and wove between cannonball shots and gunfire and furious shouts, she felt only a fierce determination to prove that woman wrong and get everyone in the crew back and united once again. The little pair of vials that Chopper had given her before she left was a slight, but comforting weight in the pocket of her jacket, and it cut urgently through the rush that her answer to HQ had given her.  _Hang on, guys; I'm finally heading back to where I need to be._

* * *

This is what it felt like to die: the first thing to go was his strength.

It was very strange. He prided himself so much on the power in his legs, had relied so much on his own body before to get him and his friends through whatever their crazy adventures brought them, that having them suddenly taken out from under him was a dizzying, fearsome prospect. At least the pain faded along with it soon enough, and his sight began to follow as well. There came a point where he forgot all about his injuries and thought that he had just woken up from a really long, horrible nightmare. In the moments that followed, he called his friends by name and actually heard them answer him in return.

The first steps had been pure agony, but he convinced himself that the pain was just superficial, nothing more. Stubbornly, he pushed onward and stumbled along weakly with only the sea beasts' help keeping him upright. They were eager to help and so very affectionate, if a little unaware of how dangerous and destructive they could be. Still, they picked up on his condition and were mercifully careful from then on out.

The personnel and guards of Base AAGE fled before them, shouting orders and calling for backup as Sanji pressed onward with the sea beasts in tow. The thought of HQ and this place keeping them locked up and subjugated forever was not an option he was willing to consider. That was why he couldn't face HQ and why he had to die here as well. Freeing the sea beasts was just the way he had chosen to go. No one would know who he was when he was gone, not until it was too late for HQ to use him, to take whatever control he had over the sea beasts.

The sea beast babies looked at him in surprise when they reached the apparent dead end; Sanji wasn't worried about getting caught, but about making sure that they got out of the base first. He hadn't made it a point to stay hidden, and with the people scrambling to get out of their way there was no point anymore. The Border Guard would arrive soon enough to stop him, and by that time he planned on having them out of AAGE, safe and sound.

It was, however, more of a struggle to open the door than he first thought. With nothing left but his own bare hands and the last of his energy, Sanji poured everything into moving it, an inch, a single bit from the sliver he had worked his fingers into. Even for all of his efforts, with every awful, grating heave, it would barely budge for him. Sweat mixed with tears in his eyes as he stared hopelessly at the unforgiving gouges in the floor beneath it; drop by violent drop, the wounds on his stomach began to spill open, filling the grooves at his feet with his blood.

 _Useless_ , he accused himself, remembering blood on broken stone on Thriller Bark.  _You couldn't do it after all_.

"Sanji..." His name was a hesitant question in Guppy's voice, small and frightened. He thought of her, of the sea beasts at his side, who depended solely on him to escape HQ's clutches, and then of his crew, who he had led straight into their clutches in the first place.

_Failure, useless, weak...a shame but there's absolution in admitting when you failed…isn't that right, little eggplant?_

"...Zeff?" he panted, even though there was no possible world of worlds where the old man could have been there at his side in that moment.

 _You can't expect to change anything when you never had the power to be strong, truly strong. That's just how you were made, to fail when it really counts. It's the way the world-_  "NO!"

Biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, Sanji squeezed his eyes shut and threw himself against the old, jammed door. He forgot about the limitations, about his injuries, about the fact that he shouldn't have been alive anymore, and he fought. Shoving, clawing, digging in his feet to find a place to stand, he pulled until that was the only thing he could remember; in the end, the door stood broken before him, open wide enough for the sea beasts to escape.

Leaning tiredly against the half-wedged door, he turned one last smile at Guppy.

"Go on," he echoed his earlier words to her. "Get out of here now. Leave, okay?"

She looked at her companions, who simply took one look at him before diving straight into the waiting waters of the underground river with a loud splash that drew the attention of the oncoming wave of guards. But she refused to move from her spot with a petulant frown.  _"I want to stay where you are!"_

Sanji gave her a desperate look. "Guppy, please…"

With a whimper that broke his heart, she reluctantly tore herself from his side, but in his exhaustion he didn't notice the curl of her lip as she gave the Border Guards a hateful glare that halted them in their steps.

"…good Guppy…I wish I could have done more for you," he sighed when she disappeared after the others, letting his blurred vision rest on the cool blue waters beneath the doorway. It seemed like ages ago since he first arrived in the cities with the rest of his group, back when he thought that the All Blue was just in reach. Even that paled in comparison to what he had lost since coming to this island. The sea beasts, who he had barely just gotten to know…his dream, which he had always known was nothing more than a fairytale…his friends, who had turned out to be his greatest treasure after he lost every last one of them. It was a cold and broken revelation.

The shot rang in his ears like the perfect accompaniment to the bursting flame in his chest, and at first that was the only thing he felt rattling in his bones…before the pressure above his heart became real pain. He only realized that he was on the ground when he noticed his blood spreading underneath him on the stone tiles, kind of like an ocean.  _All Blue_. "…it's too bad it wasn't real; I really wanted to see it."

A smile spread across his face, forced but steady, because if he allowed himself anything else it would break him entirely.  _I wanted to see them again, too._

Brook, who had brought a song to their beloved ship; Franky, the constant, dependable protector of their home; Robin with all of her mature wisdom and strength of spirit; Chopper, who healed them both mind and body; Nami, the girl he fell for twice, for her beauty and her kind heart; Usopp, who for all of his lies was the bravest man he had ever known; Luffy, his first companion, comrade, and friend…his  _captain_. Luffy, Luffy, Luffy…and Zoro.

It came back to the island ship with him. Thriller Bark had rattled him more than he ever wanted to let on, and he guessed it had something to do with the way that he had come to see Zoro in the first place. When he considered all things in their context within his life, he couldn't say that he was all that surprised at what he found.

Zoro's blood on his white, clenched knuckles as he stood in a circle of crimson red, arms folded resolute across his chest; his pearl-white blade lying among the ruins because where he planned to go he could not take it; the glowing orb of their captain's battle damage a bubbling sunrise on a stone grey sea of wreckage and rubble. The way he said goodbye to Sanji without really saying anything at all.

Him.

He had never been more sorry to come to such a startling realization. It was too late now, anyway.  _Too late for confessions, for goodbyes, for anything._

Sanji struggled with each ragged, burning breath as it tore his chest open every time, and he counted the space between his slowing heartbeats to pass the time and focus on something other than the pain. The bullet had gone straight through his chest, from back to front, and whether it had just missed his heart or not was something he didn't have the concentration for anymore. All he knew was that the pressure building inside of him had to give sometime. He couldn't keep Death waiting, after all _…or is it the other way around?_

Each time he thought it was blissfully ending, his body ached and fought against everything and he kept on going, heart and lungs refusing to stop. Death was supposed to have been the end, and yet even it eluded him.  _Please…_ he thought wretchedly, trembling horribly as another spasm of pain wracked his body.  _I can't…not anymore. Please._

And yet Sanji lingered still.

* * *

It was chaos in Area Nine of the base when they arrived, and the reports that were flying across the corridors were frantic and scattered.

"We've lost contact with HQ!"

"The cages are empty; someone let the Hounds loose!"

"We've got a perpetrator in Area Nine; all available men to the first hatch now!"

" _The books! The books! The library is on_ _ **fire**_ _!"_

Usopp watched the staff and personnel of the base scramble around in a heated frenzy as the updated and constant stream of information changed their course entirely within seconds. He wiped a bit of soot away from his cheek and glanced at the Director nervously, who was currently working through another pile of food that might have been able to satisfy Luffy's own monstrous appetite. "Um, do you think we should tell them that the books are going to be okay for now?"

She shook her head dismissively and plucked up another tart off the tray she had swiped from the kitchens. "Let them panic for now; it'll give us cover to move unnoticed through the base… Control's lost power. That's going to make it difficult to locate your friends in this place."

Usopp stepped out quietly into the rush of people and gestured at her to do the same. "No need, let's just follow the screaming people towards the biggest source of trouble in the base. That's exactly where we're bound to find them."

"…sounds an awful lot like Duparis' lot," she murmured in surprise, reaching out to grab his hand before she lost sight of him in the crowd. "Then again, I always heard that pirates were only good for two things: trouble and a good hanging."

"Oi, let's keep executions off the table until I'm sure that we're all going to survive, okay?"

"You're a spoilsport, my dear. What is a proper adventure without at least one mention of the traditional style of execution for the old time sea dogs?"

He looked back at her with an amused grin as she elbowed someone in the crowd away so that she could stay with him. "Okay, now I  _know_  that you should have been a pirate of some sort."

Before she could retort that she was nothing but a respectable lady of society, albeit a spirited one, the horrible sound of gunfire carried down the corridor they were making their way through. They exchanged a glance and began to shove through the crowd with an almost-manic urgency. It took them all of nine minutes to reach the end of the hall, at the old, unused hatch into the underground river that the ferry into the Inner Cities used, and by that time the crowd had tripled in size. Getting a clear view of what was going on was virtually impossible.

Then, they heard the tense exchange between the Medics and the Guards.

"You  _shot_  at my friends," a low female voice said dangerously. "You veritable  _idiots_ , do you even realize what you've done?"

Usopp noticed the broken railing along the wall closest to him and seized the spot for his vantage point. The Director frowned but moved closer and gestured at him to grab at least a glimpse of what was happening. It was an unsteady, rickety perch, but from there he had a perfect view of the confrontation.

The Medics stood between the broken hatch and the Guards crowding the hallway, all of them looking furious beyond words; miraculously, none of them were injured, and the reason stood tall and immovable in front of them.  _Even with the Guard's uniform, on I'd have recognized Franky anywhere_ , he thought with a relieved smile, glad to see that his friend was alright and back on his feet. A frown crossed his face in the next moment; if he peered past the group before the hatch, he could make out a silent, unmoving figure collapsed only inches from the river rushing beyond the open doorway. Someone had been hit after all.

The leader of the Guards spoke past Franky and addressed the female medic behind him. "Fourteen, we would suggest that you step down now-"

"No," came Fourteen's ready reply as she tried to push the shipwright in disguise out of the way so that she could see the crowd before them. "We're done being afraid, we're done stepping down and being puppets and lab rats and cronies. Shoot us all now, if that's what HQ wants, but just know that we're not going to play their game anymore."

The leader of the Guard was silent for a moment, staring at Franky's broad, solid form in the middle of the hallway and the Medic's bold, unwavering gaze at the other end of the barrel of his gun. "You realize Three has endangered us all, don't you? And the man you're hiding behind isn't even part of the Guard."

"What does that matter to you?" Franky frowned and folded his arms over his chest, still feeling the sting of the bullets that he had caught for the sake of the Medic team. "I'm willing to bet half of the people in this place aren't even who they say they are."

"He has a point," Twelve said as he peered around Franky. "We've all only ever gone by codename in this place."

The shipwright looked down at him with a strange expression on his face. "Hey."

"Hey yourself. You finally got the message, huh?"

"…message? You didn't give me any message."

Twelve smiled thinly under his mask and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "you must be the cute one" before clearing his throat. "Never mind right now…Chief, that's not even Three you've shot down."

"…who the hell are you suggesting is under that mask, then?"

Two, who was kneeling on the floor next to the pool of blood with a helpless expression in her red-rimmed eyes, glanced up tiredly and shook her head at the Chief and his men. "Our target, of course…the Skeleton Key, the mark, Sanji…not Three. Take your pick."

Usopp's heart dropped into his stomach; he felt a wave of nausea wash over him at the sight of the crumpled figure at the open door.

" _Sanji!"_  He shoved past the guards that stood in his way, not caring that he was leaving the Director behind in the crowd to fend for herself. She would be fine. That didn't matter like the fear clenched around his heart or the bile rising up in his throat, or the sight of Sanji lying facedown in a pool of his blood, trembling and small. "Oh my God, you…"

There was something about not moving an injured person that he was forgetting, but even that didn't seem important now. "Sanji…hey, Sanji. We're here now, everything's going to be okay."

Somewhere in his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of Franky as he rushed to join them, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Sanji. Not when he looked so pale and breakable and barely even there anymore. He looked up at Usopp like he was seeing a ghost, with eyes that looked too bright and heartbroken to actually be directed at him. A wide, fragile smile spread across his face and he laughed weakly, almost like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "…Usopp? You…came back…"

"Of course we did," Franky grinned softly, reaching over to tug at the rest of the cloth obscuring his face. It came away sticky with the blood it had been seeping in, leaving his face looking even whiter against the contrasting red smear on his cheek. "No one wanted to leave you behind, Curly-bro."

"Franky…?" Sanji couldn't have looked happier than at this moment; he was actually laughing and smiling (however feeble and exhausted) like he rarely ever did. He was smiling like he was seeing his dream for the first time. "…you…too?"

"Everyone, Sanji," Usopp said as he forced back all the terrifying thoughts that were crowding into his mind. Sanji seemed to fade more and more with their arrival, shivering even though his skin was hot to the touch with fever, but even that was disappearing, too. "Hey, look at me. We're all going back together, so just hang in there, okay?"

"Everyone…?" His brow furrowed, and getting every word was a battle for him. To Usopp's horror, more blood blossomed over his chest until his uniform was the blackest red he'd ever seen. "B-but why-?"

"We never wanted to go," Franky said, echoing his last words more firmly. "I know that sounds selfish, but don't ask these kinds of things. Everyone's fighting to get back, I swear...that's alright; you're okay. It's okay, Sanji."

It seemed to be too much for Sanji to handle. His mouth trembled, curving downward, and he gave only a single solitary blink before the tears flooding his eyes spilled over.

"I-I…I'm sorry...I…w-wanted to wait for…all…of…you…" His voice was barely a whisper now, and there were heavy pauses between his words to match the stretches of time between breaths and heartbeats. "…do you think that would have been okay?"

"You can," Usopp insisted, drawing him closer even though there was hardly anything left of him (no), even when his chest fell for the last time (no), even when the light in his eyes dimmed away (no). "And you will- no, look at me. Sanji, stay with me,  _please-stay-with-me-stay-with-me-San-"_

The words petered out as he began to understand the true burden in his arms. He was holding nothing, but the weight was still there. Sanji was gone, but he was still there.

In the scope of all things, Sanji's words probably would never have come to mean anything to anyone at all. He should have been dead for hours, leaving nothing but a cold, stiff corpse for them to find in the corridor of Base AAGE, alone and sad and small like all dead things. He should not have gone cool and quiet in Usopp's lap, tears still streaming down his dirt-stained face and drenched in so much blood that he was afraid it would keep spreading across the tiles, stretching onwards down the hallway infinite and endless. No one could explain why he had waited this long...or why afterward, he hadn't.


	20. How to Say Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many ways to introduce yourself, whether you're a proud and ruthless king off the Red Line, a peculiar bunch of eavesdropping Medics, or a pack of suspiciously large sea beasts. The Straw Hats learn them all, one by one.
> 
>  

The ships swayed on the tumultuous waves as the ocean thrashed around them while they fought across nine decks and bridge decks and in the water when they could. Thaddeus and his men led the assault on the capsizing mainship of the attacking fleet, where the terrain was more risky for the Straw Hats crew, while Brook and Chopper held ground on their own ships against the invading pirate crews. Their captain was on the bridge, plowing through a horde of the enemy pirates and generally causing a whirlwind of mayhem against all the intruders on his ship. Somewhere in the periphery, Zoro's blades created a storm of clashing steel as he moved across the water, quick footwork and skillful swordsmanship keeping him afloat in a sea of attackers that, although scattered over the sinking debris of the flagship, were formidable opponents on such an unstable battlefield.

Robin herself remained on the Black Siet where she held the forecastle as her high ground, keeping an eye out on her crewmates with the vantage point that the ship's foremost deck afforded her. The fight roared around her like an inferno of thunderous flames and cannon fire, the enemy pressing in on all sides against their outnumbered crew and allies, and the boards beneath her feet crackled and groaned under the strain of the heat in the air, but Robin had only eyes for her friends. She moved like clockwork, letting her instinct guide her through stance and attack as wave after wave of pirates fell upon her. Even when the storm clouds overhead broke, shrouding the battlefield in a curtain of water, she brought her opponents down before turning to the next with tireless speed and grace and blinked rainwater out of her eyes as she reassured herself of her crewmates' safety and location.

 _As long as they're alright,_  she told herself,  _then I can keep on fighting._

The hints came early but unnoticed; she had fought like this before and the warning signs of battle fatigue were not new to her. Her heart hammered away in her chest until she could hear it above the exploding cannon shots, and there was a dull ache behind her eyes that was almost welcome in exchange to the sharp pain in her chest. It was something she could bear.

What she couldn't bear, however, made itself present in a moment when she was just trying to catch her breath, in the space between one attack and the following. She nearly caught it too late, but vigilance and observation had been ingrained in her from childhood, first through study and finally through bloodshed and loss. Her eyes did not fail her in that crucial moment.

When she was young a gunshot had begun the shattering of her world, and now it was a gunshot that would ruin her new world, a rifle trained straight at her friend with terrifying accuracy even in the smoke-filled fog rising off the roiling sea.

Robin did not let it go off.

Her actions would have gone unnoticed by everyone in the heat of the moment; even Zoro would not have realized how close to death he had been. But the pirate gave a cry that rent the air, catching the enemy captain's attention and effectively interrupt his fight with Luffy. The seafield seemed to freeze at his hesitation, and Robin seized that opportunity to halt the combatants in any way that she could, sprouting limbs that held every last one of their attackers in place without another word. Her focus was split and yet entirely centered on the man who had dared to attempt on Zoro's life, and she felt like she was seeing everything through a red-tinted glass.

Her throat clenched with unmitigated anger.

"You will not raise a hand against anyone ever again," her disembodied voice whispered into his ear. "Now-"

" _Stop!"_

For some reason, the Pirate Captain's plea (for it was certainly a plea) didn't fall on deaf ears, though she would have tried to ignore it. As it was, the pain behind her eyes was becoming more than a nuisance and she found her attention difficult to mete out across the battlefield. Her eyes narrowed at the Pirate Captain.

"He is my opponent; I have every right to."

The Pirate Captain lowered his weapon to the extent that her painful clutch allowed, his eyes fixed on the man whom she had focused the brunt of her anger on. "That's not the point and you know it."

Was he actually asking to her to forgive the man who only moments ago held a warm gun aimed straight at her friend's head?  **"You are mocking me."**

"I…am not."

The man screamed as she forced him to his knees with a clutch that nearly snapped his spine. His captain blanched and slowly let the sword fall out of his hand, which infuriated her. She wanted to hate these pirates for the pain of the ordeal they had put her friends through, at least partially. They were the enemy, and it wasn't fair that they got to appeal to sympathies like this.  **"I don't want to hear it."**

The Pirate Captain looked almost shell-shocked at her cold tone, a satisfying mixture of fear and astonishment in his eyes when she showed no signs of relenting her power over him and his crew. She felt like she was looking at them through the glare of light from some unseen source behind her, each of their expressions mirroring the others and blurring together into a sea of faces. It stunned her to realize how his, thrown in stark relief, was the only one that stood out to her.

His mouth tremblingly formed words that she alone was able to hear as she towered over him. "I-I…your captain will tell you. We're done…for real. Don't do this."

" **No."**

" _Please."_

Luffy watched her with a questioning look, probably because he was only privy to half of the exchange. It confused her, though; he was standing just behind the Pirate Captain and should have been able to hear everything, but now she had to look past broken, half-hung rigging and a line of thin flames in order to catch a glimpse of him and the two men she was addressing. Robin had no energy left to expend on making her voice carry across the water and had resorted to using her powers as a mouthpiece to speak to the Pirate Captain and his gunman, so there was a lot that her own captain must have missed. His dark eyes must have caught on to something, though, because understanding seemed to bloom in his expression.

"Robin," her captain called over the steady din in the background, "it's okay. They won't fight anymore."

Robin bit her lip but still felt that unbearable heat inside of her chest. Her head was pounding by this point, and the metallic taste in her mouth warned her that something was wrong with her body. As justified as she felt that her actions were, she didn't have the strength to keep this up indefinitely; her anger could only do so much.

"… **their weapons, captain,"**  was her choked reply across the harbor, booming from each corner of the battlefield as clearly as if she had been standing there.  **"Every last one."**

Luffy nodded placidly, kicking the Pirate Captain's sword into the water and staring at their enemy until they dropped their weapons, too unnerved by the dangerous look in his eyes to protest. Relieved, she loosened her hold on the man and finally felt her generated limbs dissipate as she crumpled to the floor. Her fall was broken by a pair of strong arms around her shoulders, and the clatter of swords on the wooden deck gave his identity to her immediately.

"Zoro?" she muttered thickly, wondering why the haze in her eyes only worsened when she turned her head.

Zoro's voice was even and cool, though she heard the underlying hint of worry in his tone. "I usually reserve this for the shit-cook, but you were  _really stupid_  just now. Don't move until Chopper can take a look at you."

Robin was about to ask why when the doctor landed heavily on the main deck of the Siet, shifting down into his Brain Point and rushing to her side with a terrified look on his face.

"Robin, hang in there!" Chopper flailed his hands and reached for the medicine bag that was not at his side, which only served to agitate his panic further. "W-where's my stuff? H-hold on; I'll go get it-!"

"Chopper, I'm fine." In truth, she felt like someone was trying to rip her head in two, but those were things that one tended to avoid mentioning to distressed crewmates and friends alike. "I think it was just stress."

Chopper narrowed his eyes at her in a frightening manner, but at least he seemed calmer for the moment. "This was deliberate excessive expenditure of your body's artificially enhanced resources. How could you be so reckless?"

Now she understood what it was like to be on the receiving end of the doctor's care from Luffy and Zoro's perspective. It was incredibly enlightening (and a little humbling). "I've used more than that much energy before. Surely it wasn't that bad…?"

Zoro snorted. "You really didn't get the full scope of what you just did, huh? I thought those bastards were going to faint after a show like that."

Robin sat up stiffly, determined to see what exactly he was talking about now. Her head didn't hurt as much anymore, though her heart was still racing and the red tint in her vision stubbornly remained.

The battlefield before her was glowing against the stormy skies, the light reflected off a veritable shower of flower petals. It was the lasting traces of her powers that filled the air in a way she had never seen before; the sky itself looked like it was on fire. "Did I do that?"

"You overexerted yourself, Robin." Chopper watched her worriedly as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth. "I'm just glad that it didn't kill you outright."

Robin pulled her hand away from her face and was startled to see fresh blood on her fingertips. Her nose was bleeding, though the flow had already slowed to a trickle. It was no wonder she felt horrible; if the radius that the lingering petals covered was any indication, she had spread herself dangerously thin across a great distance without even realizing it.

She let Chopper fuss over her, feeling a strange numbness settle over her as she looked across the battlefield. Her extra body parts had disappeared as soon as she collapsed, but the whispers were just beginning. People had talked about her behind her back before; she had grown up on murmurs of betrayal every night and day of her life.  _Those demon eyes,_  they would say to each other,  _that devil's look._  Robin couldn't deny that it would sting to hear those words again, but she also knew that her overexertion was no accident on her part. She had pushed her powers to that point in full awareness of what she was doing, even if the consequences hadn't yet occurred to her.

_I wanted to frighten them…I wanted them to feel what I did too._

Out of the corner of her eye, Robin saw the Pirate Captain kneeling next to his fallen man as the rest of their attackers fell back to nurse their wounds. He had been dragged onto the Siet's deck as the most dangerous of their enemy because he had the most authority over the crews that had attacked them, but he had apparently insisted that they allow the gunman to stay with him. As the man stirred and opened his eyes, a look she had seen before softened his expression, and she noticed the captain's hand resting on his arm, furtive but eloquent of fealty.

_No one is born into this world to be alone._

She suddenly felt so tired.

Instead she stood up, ignoring her friends' worried exclamations and insistence that she rest, and picked her stumbling way down to the ship's main deck where the Pirate Captain and his men waited, bound and defeated. The captain didn't even look up when she stopped at the foot of the stairs, a hand clutching at the banister with as much nonchalance as she could manage. She didn't blame him at all.

Before Robin could speak, one of the pirates muttered something that made her freeze up, a snatch of a whispering.  _A terror_ , he called her, and with that she lost her resolve to say anything to the captain.

She couldn't even find it in her to apologize.

The Pirate Captain glanced up as though he was surprised to find her still standing there, motionless and stricken. His mouth curved into a frown. "Just let the rest of them go, at least."

"I'm not going to kill you."

He chuckled humorlessly. "Could've fooled me, what with that…"

She didn't even have time to run the possibilities in her mind of what he could say about her—that she was a monster, living up to her epithet Devil Child with distinction?—when the Pirate Captain trailed off, ending her vexed outburst before it had finished forming in her mind. Robin whirled around as an enormous shadow engulfed the Black Siet, raising her arms up in anticipation of yet another enemy even though she felt close to toppling under a wave of dizziness.

She took a step back, arms locking into a defensive position when she recognized the man standing on the figurehead of the ship that approached them from starboard. "Khalashtrogos!"

Luffy appeared at her side like a ghost, without a word or sound; his eyebrows drew low and close on his thunderous expression, and he looked ready to jump back into battle mode at the sight of the demon pirates from that fateful night in Staithe Wharf's harbor.

" _Where is he?"_

That was nothing less than a demand for an answer, and it seemed to catch Khalashtrogos off guard. His surprise was a simple blip, though, and his face was soon as guarded as a World Government envoy ship. With eyes that glowed in the brilliant leftovers of her attack on the other pirates, he spoke to them in an undecipherable growl, leaving Luffy angrier than before.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. "I don't care what language you speak; you  _know_  what I'm talking about.  _Where. Is. Sanji_."

Khalashtrogos' gaze traveled over them idly, making Robin's already taut nerves itching for a release from his scrutiny. What was this man doing  _here_ , of all places?

He settled on Chopper, and the poor doctor let out a squeak before ducking down behind Hanako, who went white with fear. "M-me?"

"I think he's referring to that mysterious hospital," Brook murmured from behind Robin, catching her elbow to steady her (she was fighting with everything she had to stay on her feet now). "That's where we last heard he was headed."

"The Biles." Robin looked at Luffy only to see him lower his head, taking a breath that seemed to physically hurt him. "I don't care what sort of favor you think you did for us, Sanji is  _my_  cook. You took him from  _me_  to drag off somewhere I know nothing about, like it was up to  _you_  to decide. Now you show up here without him for what? To yell at me in a language I can't understand like this is a joke?  _Don't give me that_."

His voice had grown louder and louder until he was leaning over the railing with white-knuckled fists, red-faced and screaming in rage at Khalashtrogos' stiff-faced silence. The man watched him with a blank expression, but as Luffy's tirade came to a furious close, Robin saw the laughing look in his eyes even from a distance. It soon gave way to a real chuckle, but this one wasn't mocking or dismissive; in fact, it was probably the first time they had seen the demon pirate look intrigued since Sanji answered his request that first night in Staithe.

He dropped down from his ship's figurehead and onto the railing, seating himself on the serpent's left with a purposeful idleness. He rested his arm on the figurehead's ridged framework and looked down at them with a fierce, unblinking stare and a close-lipped smile; even the curve of his brows was lofty and imperious.

"Excuse our savage manners; despite appearances, it is not our custom to alienate fascinating strangers such as yourselves in so barbaric a way. Allow us to correct these grievances for you." Khalashtrogos spoke in perfect Parlar, the common language, like he had been born speaking it. His smirk widened at their shock, gleaming and prowling. "First, for formalities: I am Khalashtrogos of the Red Line, Qohar Imperial of Nhede Ul-Ezeabaqui and the Blood Lands at the End of the World, and I will thank you for offering me up such a presumptuous opportunity today."

Robin had known there was something fishy about a crew showing up this far along the Grand Line without speaking a word of the Common. "You understood us this whole time, didn't you?"

His eyes glittered. "Is that so surprising?"

"No, not really," she admitted. "What is surprising is that you didn't even try to communicate with those unfortunate pirate captains on the harbor before attempting to run them through. Why?"

"Oh, you expect me to converse with every other crook, thief, and outlaw on the high seas? This is an excursion for pleasure, not work. However coarse and uninspired, Parlar is a language of diplomacy (if only for its plainness and uniformity), and I have no time to waste with it outside of politics."

"They didn't understand you and you were going to kill them for it when there was a simple solution available," Robin frowned, remembering how the clamor on the docks had almost erupted into a full-out fight during the feast. Those men hadn't even tried to fight back and turned to warn the others, probably expecting to be cut down mercilessly before they could even draw a blade. They might not have been that far off, honestly.

Khalashtrogos scoffed. "Are you saying my actions were not a simple solution on their own? I was ridding myself of a nuisance while offering my men a moment's diversion as well…at least until that presumptuous man interrupted me."

"Is that why you took him? For revenge?"

"Hardly. I'll admit that I should have killed him outright for his shamelessness…maybe I would have ripped that brazen tongue right out of his throat."

"Why didn't you then?" Luffy said, jutting out his chin as he refused to be cowed by the man's grisly musings. "Instead you tried to scare him off, and when that didn't work, you decided to make him one of your own."

Khalashtrogos shrugged, a measured movement of his shoulder. "Would you believe me if I said that I couldn't?"

"Uh-uh."

"I thought so. Anyway, it's true that I tried to unnerve him, anything to get him out of my sight. That I couldn't even attack the fools cowering behind him was maddening. So, I challenged him, thinking he would choke and back down, leaving us free to attack  _someone_."

Zoro cut in with a snort. "But he met your challenge anyway. That must have been disappointing."

"Actually, it was enlightening. I wasn't disappointed to let him live."

Robin furrowed her brow. Khalashtrogos was still looking down on them, but she saw the moment that his expression changed, like he was watching someone else from afar. He looked like he was reliving a memory. "It was those eyes, I saw it when he turned those eyes at me. The color was all wrong, but I haven't misjudged before. I couldn't let that gaze escape again, so I brought him somewhere that I knew it could continue to live on this time."

"I'm certain you've never seen him before," Robin remarked lightly, noting the way that his eyes narrowed at her.

He gave an impatient shake of his head, sending his beaded braids rattling together; his eyes held an intense emotion that she could have taken for regret, had it been from anyone else. "Not him, his predecessor. That pretty little  _nadaoa-gyar_ ….if memory serves, it was a northerner known as the Gentleman Duparis."

* * *

Someone tore Usopp away from Sanji and kept a firm hold on him, like they were afraid he would hurt himself in the process of trying to get back to Sanji. He wanted to ask them why they were acting like that; he didn't even feel anything. His lack of reaction and emotion was faintly startling, but even then that feeling was distant and stifled. What he did feel was a horrible splitting headache and an aching tiredness, like someone had just drained all of the energy out of his limbs. But no, he didn't feel a desperate or even a slight need to fight his way back to Sanji. In fact, nothing about the empty husk before him reminded him of Sanji at all.

The Director was in the center of the whirlwind of action and motion now, snapping something at him that he didn't actually hear through the roaring in his ears. She had fought her way to the body, in the way that he should have, and then the same power that had kept her alive through her brutal mauling only hours ago cloaked the pair in the middle of the crowd as she worked furiously, though what she wanted to do with it was beyond him. Her eyes were hard and savage as she shouted at the people around them (why were there so many people in this place, anyway?), requests, directions, orders…he didn't even know what she was saying. But when she looked at him over the glow of her hands over the body, there was something like sympathy in them. He had never hated anyone so much than in that moment.

It was hard to explain what he was feeling when he honestly couldn't feel anything; it would have been even harder to tell anyone that he didn't really care right now. He wanted nothing to do with the Director, with these people or Franky, and especially not with that body. Later, he would recognize his detachment and disdain of the situation as a form of grief, shock at what had just happened, but during the space between Sanji's last breath and his first shuddering gasp, he just felt like someone had shoved him right into the icy water of the river in Anwhe's woods last night. He was so unbearably cold.

The silence was broken when the body arched its back with a spine-shattering crack, and then Sanji took a desperate, greedy sob of a breath before falling back to the floor limply, living (actually  _living_ ) in harsh, choking pants that slowly bled color back to his lips and cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the Director whispered as he let out a quiet moan and turned his head away from the light of her powers. "It's always hard at the beginning; just bear with it as long as you can."

She turned to Franky and Usopp and, seeing that Usopp was not a sobbing, grief-stricken mess (not outwardly, at least), the Director beckoned him with a short nod and brought Sanji up into his arms gently. "Just help him keep breathing and support his head like that; he'll do the rest on his own."

It was a strange, surreal thing to end up cradling one of his closest friends—someone who was completely unlike this under normal circumstances (but none of this was normal to begin with, was it?) and who he had always looked up to as strong and enduring and unbreakable—and find himself hoping that he wouldn't hurt him or aggravate his injuries, as though he was made of glass. But then again, he had just watched him die not five minutes ago and then witnessed his forceful resurrection via a power he hadn't even yet begun to understand the implications of. His headache was worsening to the point where he couldn't see…until he realized that it wasn't his headache, but his eyes.

A tear splashed onto Sanji's cheek, and then another, and Usopp found himself struggling to stifle a sob as a flood of tears welled up in his eyes. He must have looked horrible because Franky, cheeks wet and pale and doing his best to clean himself up, moved closer and placed a hand comfortingly on his shoulder; unfortunately, that only made him cry harder and he hunched over Sanji's body feeling like the saddest, most pathetic person in existence. It might not have been true, but he definitely had to be in the running for that right now.

Franky's voice was a rough croak after all the crying he had done, but it was quiet and soothing enough to calm him down. "Hey, he's alive, Usopp. So we should be smiling, shouldn't we?"

Usopp couldn't find his voice and just nodded between great whimpering sniffles, unable to believe that he really was alive again after everything he must have been through. The woman who had brought him back, the Director, had left them behind now that his condition was stable and seemed to have something else on her mind instead. They watched the Director make her way back into the center of the crowd, her sharp, flint-colored eyes scanning the group before her as she drew herself up to her full height to address them.

"Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and the variations therein of the Project. I'm sure you have many pressing questions and considerations regarding the events of the past twenty-four hours. Be assured; I will do everything in my power to acknowledge and reply to those concerns in a timely fashion and with the utmost, sincerest respect. Now, you may be wondering who I am, correct?"

She turned her gaze at the Medics behind her and smiled serenely before dropping the biggest surprise of the evening on everyone in the base.

"Some of you in particular may recognize me as the God Medic, and others as the Runaway. Simply put, I am Malakmher Ctena, Medic One and former allied Director; as of this moment, Project Alleblått, along with the Key, the base, and all its sectors and properties, is now under my direct supervision. One thing remains unchanged: the Project will continue as planned."

* * *

Along with her own choking fears, Nami was fighting an eddying current, great gusts of wind across the harbor, and several poorly placed buoys in the water as she raced the Shiro Mokuba I into the narrow crevice behind the charred remains of the Dockmaster's offices. She dully noted that the building wasn't visible anymore from her vantage point on the water, but that might just have been the consequence of the steep angle of the cliff it squatted on. The thick, cloying scent of the fires still lingered even days after they should have been put out (but then why could she still smell something like burning paper in the air?), and it only got stronger as she slowed down and coasted into the passageway carved into the cliffside.

Wrinkling her nose as her eyes began to water, Nami considered stopping right there to fish out a rag or something to stifle the stench a little; the small stream she was planning to follow to the main river was practically congested with the foul smell, and she didn't look forward to heading straight into  _that_  without something to cover her face. Finding nothing but the vials in the inside pocket of her jacket, Nami set her jaw and popped her collar up, steeling herself to continue anyway.  _There is no way I'm letting HQ get her way; Sanji is coming back with us no matter what._

She frowned as a flash of light refracted across the water as she left the entrance behind before vanishing and leaving her shrouded in darkness. Only a few days ago, when the Booster Shot Four headed into the Inner Cities, the ferry ride had been guided by an ethereal blue light, reflected sunbeams that caught the hue of the waters beneath the boat and transformed the entire tunnel into a wonderful, enchanting sight. It had been so easy to believe that the magical sea of legend Sanji was looking for lurked just around the corner with the way he smiled and the brilliant light coloring him as blue as the ocean itself. Now, the tunnel was as dark and silent as a tomb, and as she peered into the still waters underneath her waver, she could see no sign of the multitudes of fish packed into the streams at all.

What could have happened to them? What had changed in the three days since they got on the ferry?  _I just entered the caverns and it should still be light outside, but it looks like someone turned the lights off in here instead._  She knew that HQ was after Sanji's life, but now it seemed like someone didn't want his dream to live either.

The thought incensed her anger once again and she urged the waver to roar to dangerous speeds, calculating the exact junction at which she had predicted this smaller stream connected to the main underground river to the Inner Cities lake. She would never have enough time in a hundred lifetimes to map out every island in the world, but the navigator in her made it a point to at least plot out important places (and occasionally a seemingly minor detail or two) wherever the crew sailed. That was how she had figured out how to skip the customs checkpoint in the Dockmaster's offices and sneak back into the island unnoticed by HQ or her cronies.

 _HQ won't even know what hit her,_  she smirked as the tunnel began to widen slightly around her waver before joining the main waterway.

And then…something hit  _Nami_.

It was a close scrape (she just managed to wrench the handlebar in time to avoid the brunt of the impact) but the waver still spun wildly for one terrifying moment until she cut the Jet Dial's power and let it slow to a jerky stop mere feet from the cavern wall.

The only sound in the tunnel was her own heavy breathing and the faraway echoes of her scream (she didn't even remember opening her mouth to cry out), the waters underneath eventually rolling to a soft, empty stillness again after the agitation the impact had caused across its surface.  _What…was that?_  she thought as she glanced around nervously for the source of the blow. Was it a hidden underwater outcropping or rock? Thoughts of an attacker in the water began to cloud her head and her judgment, which worsened when she caught a glimpse of sleek scales out of the corner of her eye.  _It…can't be that, right? All of the fish are gone and-_

There was a small, almost unnoticeable ripple in the water, like something gliding past her just below the surface, and then came the unbearable wailing. That was the best term she could come up to describe it; she felt like her eardrums were slowly being carved out by the noise itself. She doubled over and clutched her head in pain, clenching her jaw so tightly that she was certain her teeth were going to shatter.  _It_ _ **hurts**_ _…I have to get away from here!_

Just as suddenly, the noise stopped, cut off by a low, rumbling keen that sent a thrill of fear shooting through her bones. With her weak night vision, she just managed to make out the dark shadow looming near the junction of the two streams; the scales seemed to glisten alone without the need of any light at all.

Now that there was no question as to whether her assailant was in the water, Nami knew that she had to get out of there immediately. Against a known, fully visible attacker she might have held her own, but assuming that the two calls had come from separate creatures and factoring in the near-pitch-blackness surrounding her, the odds were against her if she tried to stand her ground on the river. Fleeing was the only good option she had.

A quick scan of the area revealed no exits besides the path she had taken to reach this junction in the first place, and she became frightened that she would either be forced to confront the shadows at the entrance or stay idle in this spot until the creatures noticed her and attacked again.  _I could also retreat back to the sea…but where would that leave Sanji and the others? I can't face HQ's men alone._

One of the shadows near the wall shifted and slid underwater again, resurfacing near the first shadow at the junction after a few seconds. Whatever it was, it moved fast for its apparent size and probably had the strength to knock her and the waver out of commission in one blow. Her hand hesitated over the Perfect Clima-Tact at her belt as the creatures cut silently through the dark waters, disappearing from her limited view in the echoing cavern. She had no way of figuring out which direction they were coming from; she didn't even know what they were capable of.  _I might be outmatched, I might die, I-_

One of the shadows near the wall shifted and slid underwater again, resurfacing near the first shadow at the junction after a few seconds. Whatever it was, it moved fast for its apparent size and probably had the strength to knock her and the waver out of commission in one blow.

… _I'm not going to make it to the others._

The thought was like a shot of fire to her brain, and Nami drew her weapon from its holster with a deep breath. If she was going to fail, then she would go down fighting.  _The Straw Hats do not surrender._ She hated herself for giving up, but there was nothing she could do at this point but try.

 _I have to try,_  she told herself, assembling the staff quickly and creating a burst of cool balls in preparation for her attack,  _even if it's hopeless_. As she shuffled down to the heat pole to generate her Thunderbolt Tempo, the red ball at the end of her staff seemed to suck up all of the darkness for a split second, and it was then that she caught a glimpse of the tunnel.

 _There!_  Even as she let the orb die without releasing it, with her sad excuse for night vision she could clearly see a small opening between the two outcroppings at the far side of the river. Without thinking twice about it, Nami jerked the handlebar again and revved the Jet Dial back to life, speeding towards the narrow waterway as fast as she dared and was thankful for her luck when she didn't crash headlong into solid rock.

Behind her, she could hear the upheaval in the water as the creatures dove into the stream, but whether they didn't follow because the opening was too narrow for them or simply because they found her uninteresting in the end was beyond her. The only thing that mattered now was getting out of the water; it was like a beacon thrumming inside of her panicked mind as she jumped off the waver, hauling it up the steep embankment on the right side of the river as soon as the engine cut off. She had just caught sight of a series of doors along this waterway when she heard it. The river frothed and bubbled behind her, and then the dirt and gravel gave way underneath sharp claws as they dragged themselves up onto the bank. Those creatures had followed her after all.

Panting heavily, Nami threw the first door open and fell into the passage behind it with the waver. She didn't allow herself to crumble into the fear; jumping up with a cry that echoed in the cavern, she stumbled over the waver and slammed it shut with all of her strength just as the first monster threw itself at her.

The innocent little click of a lock had never felt more like relief to her than at that moment.

She backed away from the door, cringing as the beasts pounded on the door, their howls and clawing pursuing her even behind the safety of that barrier. For a full minute, she didn't dare breathe.

It held.

Nami sank to the ground with a sob, feeling like she had just run the Alabasta desert road in the span of a day. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, but it might as well have been an eternity in those tunnels. Briefly, she touched her face and found it drenched with tears.

"I-I'm alive…"

She left the waver at the bottom of the stairs she found at the end of the passageway; it was pointless to carry it with her now, even if she ever did find the courage to head back to the underground river. Her careful manipulation of the Clima-tact ensured that those creatures in the water would not find their way in. _Not unless they plan on digging through several tons of fallen rubble and rock, and even then I doubt they're getting anywhere near this place._

With a weary sigh, Nami ran a hand over her aching eyes and wished the memories of those things away, whatever they were. They were full-grown monsters, vicious and ravenous for blood and more terrifying than even the sea kings' vast size could inspire.  _And their eyes…_ She never wanted to face another one of them ever again.

The young woman wiped her eyes and shuffled down the corridor, rounding the corner without looking to see if anyone was there. That was how she ran straight into something huge, solid, and painful. "Oof!"

She almost fell to the ground in a dazed heap, but a hand grasped her arm just in time to save her what would have been a really nasty bump to the head. "Wow, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Her jaw dropped. "Duval, it's you!"

Duval grinned. "Hey, what are you doing here, little Red?"

"I could ask the same of you," Nami retorted with a frown, ignoring his attempt at a wink and his usual 'Yeah, I'm handsome'. "We thought you were headed for the Sabaody Archipelago."

"Oh, we were but then someone-" he nodded at someone behind him "-decided to get sick about three hours in, and I had to turn around to look for help  _here_."

She remembered the heated exchange a few days earlier between the Dockmaster and her crew. A wry grin stretched across her face. "No luck, huh?"

"They say they don't do medicine. Can you believe it?" Duval threw his hands in the air, obviously more exasperated and confused than she was. She then wondered If he had ever visited the island before he tracked Sanji down to this place. "Doctors who don't take care of people…incredible."

"I am astounded," Nami said dryly, trying to peer around him to see the hunched figure on the floor. "What happened to-"

"I told you to keep going, you incomprehensible  _moron_. No one comes to Staithe to look for doctors."

_That voice…_

Nami slipped past Duval as he rounded on the other man with a groan, his frustration echoing all the way down the small, enclosed corridor.

"We would have been at Sabaody if you hadn't-"

"You've brought me here to die and I hate you very much."

Duval glared expectantly at Nami. "Do you see what I've had to deal with?"

Nami gaped at the man slumped against the wall, shivering underneath a woolen blanket and looking like death warmed over. His grey-blue eyes opened up slowly, like even that simple action cost him more energy than he had in his body. Recognition flickered in them, and even in his exhaustion he at least seemed alert and aware of his surroundings.

"You," he said tiredly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Sardoc."

* * *

**Why did you linger here, Normandeau?**

He shuddered and turned away from the golden glow on the edge of his peripheral vision without wondering why it was there. Never mind that being close to it made him feel more alert, awake, stronger; he didn't want it anywhere near him. Instead, he found comfort in the refuge of someone's arms around his shoulders.  _Usopp_. His friend's arrival banished the glow away, leaving him shrouded in a shadow that was not quite physical, but close enough.

**What did you hope to accomplish with this?**

He could feel Usopp's tears on his cheek, heavy and wet. They trickled down his face to settle on his conscience like iron weights, or boulders. Mountains, probably. Either way, all he wanted was to get up and say that he was sorry for everything (the chains of poor choices and poorer after-choices, his faulty morals and damnable guilt, for ever choosing to wait), but he couldn't even do that. Every muscle and joint ached, every breath was a struggle. Just opening his eyes asked for all of his willpower and then some. His eyes ached as he sought a familiar face in the shadow, pleading and searching for comfort.

**Isn't this what you always do, fail those closest to your heart and then burden them when you can't even sacrifice yourself properly? Aren't you such a waste?**

As soon as he opened his eyes, it was to the unique and dizzying whirlwind of sights and sensations that…didn't belong to him at all. He felt like he was underwater, awash in a wave of burning pain with hot iron melting in his mouth as he coughed weakly under the strain of drowning in his own blood. The look on Usopp's face told him that he was imagining it. His lungs were fine; he had been shot above the heart. That much was true. Still, he didn't know his own internal system. That was also true. But he knew that he was  _not_  dying while coughing up blood; he was dying of something else entirely, something that didn't allow him to be fully present at his own death. This was someone else's memory he was living. Or dying, if one wanted to be technical about it.

There was no rhyme nor reason to the procession of images that flashed before him. He reached up, frightened and trembling, to clutch Usopp's shirt in his bloodstained hand, and he found nothing but air in its stead. A cacophony of voices bombarded his perception, some familiar in various degrees, and others completely foreign to his ears. A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders roughly, and then he saw the piercing bright eyes of the Medics behind their masks, but their voices didn't match, like someone had wiped over them with a Tone Dial. He couldn't make sense of who was speaking to him, whether he was hearing someone who wasn't even in the same room anymore, or where in the world he was.

"-may be going into shock…" he heard from the doctor with the pale lavender hair, and he was unable to decide if her eyes were hard steel or grey like autumn clouds; they seemed to change in color whenever he tried to focus on her.  _I thought you were dead_ , he remembered, but the only words that came out of his mouth were  _"I knew you were alive, Beloved_. _"_

Her eyes grew wide and round in both versions of her, though her cool-eyed self recovered from bewilderment much quicker and snapped out orders to someone behind her. He couldn't muster up the energy to try to identify them, but it didn't matter because Franky's voice filled up his state of confusion and forced him back into his little world again.

"-look at me…at us, bro," Franky pleaded from somewhere above him. "…help you out in whatever we can…you have to help us out first-"

They looked at him with distress lining their ashen faces, but he had wanted to wait. He would follow them, of course, but that decision just before they arrived…were they angry at him for that? How to explain to them that he would do whatever they asked…

"…anything," he croaked, frowning when it wasn't his friends' faces waiting for him on the other side but a group of equally pale strangers. Someone tore his shirt open ( _that's Three's, don't touch it_ ) amidst low murmurs in the tense atmosphere; from the strains of whispers he managed to hear, they were losing him.  _"Blood pressure dropping…excessive bleeding from abdomen, stab wound-"_

The pale-haired doctor was one he recognized immediately within the throng of men. She stood terrified in the grasp of the older gentleman holding her back, but she seemed to submit to his request that she stay out of the way of the others as they tried to save him. He was struck by the softness of her rosy cheeks and her fresh-faced beauty, unmarred by the stony gaze that she wore when he first met her. She couldn't have been older than fourteen; she was already fourteen. Had it been so long-

His hand reached out to her, beseeched her presence.  _"…s-sœ…ur…you don't…?"_

Her face drained of color and she tried to approach him, but that was the last he saw of her before Usopp was back and shaking him awake with desperation and fear in his eyes. He felt like someone had stuffed cotton in his ears; nothing that his friends were saying reached him no matter how they tried.  _Franky…Usopp…I'm coming, just give me a moment._

It didn't matter that his thoughts wouldn't translate into speech; he couldn't see them anymore regardless. His vision blurred to match his slurring words, and he sank into the warmth of Usopp's arms, with Franky's hand a comfortable weight on his shoulder and the doctor's voice a beacon in the dark. He only briefly wondered who was calling out to whom, and where this beloved sister of theirs was. His musing was over just as soon, and he simply fell back into comfortable darkness, exhausted.

**You disappoint me, Normandeau.**

* * *

Usopp jerked his head up as he was startled out of his sleep, and he almost missed the doctor's hushed reassurance near him as he squeezed his hand reflexively in panic. Sanji's fingers were still encircled within his trembling grasp, and he sighed a deep, exhausted breath of relief when Sanji squeezed back weakly. He hadn't woken up but for a few brief, whirlwind moments in which he cried out in an unfamiliar language, but he was  _alive_  and  _stable_ , and that was good enough for Usopp right now.

Satisfied that his friend was still exactly in the place and condition that he had left him in, Usopp shook off the last hazy, aching remainders of sleep and sat up stiffly in the chair he had drifted off in, sending a cautious glance at the doctor skimming over numerous charts and monitors across the room. She tried smiling, but upon seeing his bleary-eyed distrust it fell flat.

"I'm just checking up on his condition, Usopp," the Director, or One, or whoever the hell she actually was, said softly. "You don't have to worry about Sanji's safety around me or within the base; HQ cannot hurt him here anymore."

Usopp simply stared at her wordlessly, feeling like there was cotton stuffed in the space his brain normally occupied. Maybe he understood what was going on, maybe not, but right now his mind offered no reply to anything she was saying.

Her crestfallen expression did stir up some sympathy for her, but he wished that he could explain to her exactly why he wasn't feeling very friendly towards her at the moment. Luckily, Franky, having woken up a while ago and being clearheaded enough to pick up on the tension in the room, took the silence as his cue to intercede in the one-sided conversation.

"Maybe we're safe from HQ's spying for now, but tell me why we should drop our guard around you, One?" Franky said stiffly, conveying exactly what he and Usopp were feeling in a single glare; the Director flinched and dropped her gaze back to the charts. "We're grateful for what you did, but your little announcement back there didn't exactly inspire a lot of trust from us."

She shook her head. "I only have Sanji's best interests in mind; you must believe-"

"Oh yeah? Explain how keeping this project of HQ's going is supposed to be in his best interests when the goddamned thing pretty much killed him once already!"

Usopp was still silent and expressionless, though at Franky's words he hunched closer to Sanji and dropped out of the exchange entirely; he didn't want to listen to this anymore. Everything and everyone seemed intent on reminding him that they had gotten there too late. Too late, and his mind shut down after that. He remembered nothing else besides refusing to let go of Sanji the second time that he was given back his friend. The past few hours he just held Sanji's hand and stubbornly fought off sleep, finally giving in to his exhaustion and slumping over the hospital bed in a boneless heap afterwards. He hadn't even realized that in his sleep he had drawn as close to Sanji as he possibly could, clutching his hand with a desperation that spoke volumes about how the events of the past day and a half had affected him.

In his half-conscious mutterings, he kept pleading for Sanji to stay with them and he  _just couldn't stop_. He felt like he should have been ashamed for the way he was acting, and maybe he was, but it paled in comparison to Sanji's heartbroken rambling and his last breath in Usopp's arms. His last breath, oh  _God_ -

"-just breathe, Usopp," Franky soothed while the Director had to force Sanji's hand out of his grip before he hurt him; he had been clutching it so tightly in his panic. Usopp knew it was for everyone's wellbeing, but he couldn't help the whimper that escaped his lips when his lifeline was cut away from him. "Don't worry, she's not going to do anything to him while I'm here."

The Director's eyes were vivid and bright in the light cast off by the monitors, and she dropped her charts onto the table next to Sanji's bed with a loud slap. Usopp flinched.

"I may be a 'bad guy' to you and even to everyone from here on out, but let me just tell you something, Franky:  _I am not here as Sanji's enemy_."

"I think he should be the one to decide that, don't you think?"

"He is currently not in any condition to answer that."

"Then you should wait until he is so that he can choose whether or not to continue being the 'Key' for this sketchy project-"

"He doesn't get a choice, Franky!" the Director snapped, casting a glance at the door before she drew the room divider curtains shut around Sanji's bed. Her voice was hushed and almost scared as she spoke to the pair, gesturing that they lower their voices, too. "Do you even know why I said that out there in front of everyone?"

Franky muttered that he didn't see why they should even listen to her anymore.

"First, I don't like her," he whispered to Usopp, squeezing himself into the space between the them to put as much distance between his friends and the Director. "Second, that's all I've got, and it makes me dislike her even more."

"I think…we should give her a chance-" Usopp sighed when Franky shot him a dirty look. "At least let's hear her out…"

The Director shook her head, whirling around and striding to the edge of the bed to leave. Her hand on the curtains, she hung her head and spoke in a tired voice. "I don't care if you don't trust me, but that boy's life matters more to me than this stupid project a thousand times over. Still, it's the only thing keeping him alive right now, especially when I can't even come close to healing him."

"What do you mean?" Usopp tried to peer over Franky's shoulder to get to her, but doing that would mean letting go of Sanji's hand, and he was not keen on doing that again. "You brought him back to…f-from…you brought him back. Healing him should be a given, shouldn't it?"

She chuckled cheerlessly. "That's what it hinges on, Usopp. I  _brought him back_. And I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have been able to; never have, might never be able to again. I don't even know how I did it when he was dead for several minutes. My powers don't work like that."

"Then how do you explain that?" Franky pointed accusingly at the fragile state of their friend's heart monitor; Usopp wondered which side the shipwright was on anymore when he was jumping back and forth in an attempt to be contrary to the Director's point.

"I…don't know. I heal people, living people. This ability requires a life force to fuel it, actual energy from the person I'm healing. It's a…precondition for this 'gift' of mine."

So it was like she amplified the person's own healing factor with her powers so that they could get better? That made sense, Usopp supposed, but now he was just as mystified as she was. "Is there any way to…t-to give-?"

"To give life back? I've never heard of anyone who could. Regardless, considering how weak he is right now and factoring in the strain it would put on his heart, I don't dare try anything more until he's awake and able to handle it. And that's why he needs the Project's protection."

Franky was starting to look more subdued, and his tone didn't have the same bite in it as when he was retorting angrily earlier. "That bullet was supposed to go through his heart and you know it. No one here wants him alive."

"Correction:  _HQ_  doesn't want him alive, though it baffles me. Everyone in this place has been working tirelessly on their orders for years, and before that on the orders of the former directors. The Skeleton Key isn't something anyone in their right mind would throw away lightly. But there are those in the base who owe more loyalty to HQ than to the Project, and they are the ones we need to watch out for."

Usopp wanted to say that he understood, but he didn't. "How is the Project supposed to stop them from carrying out her orders?"

"…they don't want to disturb the status quo, which she-" Franky nodded at the Director sharply "-and the Project represent. The majority of the people in this place doubt the orders they were just given, or maybe they didn't even receive them. Is that right?"

She smiled hesitantly. "You suspect that only a few people received that order, right?"

"I found a note in Control that basically said 'kill Sanji and get bragging rights from HQ'. Unless everyone has access to that room, I don't think it was meant for anyone but the person who monitors that place."

The Director gripped the railing on the bed tightly. "It's been so long since I was a part of the Project; I can't imagine who is in Control anymore."

"You mean there's a killer out for Sanji's blood somewhere in the base and we have no idea who he is or how to find him?" Usopp almost scooped Sanji off the bed immediately, wide-eyed and shaking.  _"We have to leave."_

"He's too weak," Franky muttered, rolling his shoulders slowly. "He can't even defend himself." Usopp caught a glimpse of the heavy bandages underneath the collar of his shirt and felt the words "but we could protect him" died on his lips; he couldn't put another burden on his friends' shoulders now, of all times. They really weren't in any shape to get him out of here, were they?

He turned to the Director in a pathetic, last-ditch effort. "Isn't there anything else we can do?"

"I only restarted his system not twenty hours ago," she explained to a morose Usopp and a surly Franky over the charts in her hands, "and he's been fighting off the virus on one front and these injuries on the other, not to mention there's a probability that infection has already set in. The lack of oxygen to his brain is also troubling, though the most immediate of our concerns is blood loss and severe trauma."

Usopp bit his lip to keep it from trembling (to no avail), and the look on Franky's face made his stomach lurch even worse. "That i-isn't helping either…"

The Director fumbled with Sanji's pathology reports and stuttered apologies while backtracking on her dire account of his status. "I-I am so sorry; it's just that...w-well, it isn't  _all_  bleak, my boy. We do have to consider everything, but everything always looks bad at face value in this field. I-I mean…with all of the right equipment, monitors, and ventilators, he's stable, right? Doesn't that sound comforting?"

His expression told her that in fact, when she was saying all of this with a nervous, uncertain expression on her face as she gestured at the armament of medical equipment surrounding his friend,  _no, it didn't_.

"Wow, you're really bad at this, One."

"You idiot, they weren't supposed to know that we're eavesdropping on them."

 _Whack_. "My God, I'm surrounded by morons."

They looked at the closed door to the private room they had been given, a heavy, understated affair made of some sort of native reddish wood and timber. The voices quieted momentarily, then a loud thump and a round of comical swearing gave away the identities of their troublemaking snoops.

The Director sighed and shot a questioning glance at Franky and Usopp. "Do you mind if I invite them in?"

Usopp occupied himself with tracing the line of bandages on Sanji's hand, leaving Franky to deal with the question on his own.

"Eh, I guess it's alright," he groaned in half-hearted exasperation, and Usopp gave him a grateful look. "But they'd better put themselves to use in fixing Sanji or I'm kicking all of those damn Medics out myself."

The door crashed down soundly, echoing in the cavernous hallway behind the group crowding the now-gaping entrance to the room. The Medics were all in various states of excitement and curiosity, and he was sure that the one practically vibrating near the front was Medic Twelve, clutching Ten's arm in a vice-like grip.

"We can be useful," he promised in a restrained, high-pitched voice.

Ten was no less discrete, but her eyes sparkled with the full degree of her elation. "Yay, our first living patient."

Usopp slowly moved himself in front of the bed to shield Sanji with his body to the best of his ability, while Franky and the Director exchanged a horrified look.

Two buried her face in her hands and repeated her previous statement. "I am surrounded by idiots."

"…yeah, I kinda regret my decision," Franky said after some thought. "They have to leave."

"No, wait," Two pleaded quickly, silencing the chorus of disappointed groans from her companions. "We've never killed anyone, I promise! We can handle this."

Franky was about to give them a sarcastic retort or two, Usopp just knew it, but then one of the Medics interrupted from the back.

"If I may…" Nineteen chipped in quietly. "We've never been given a live subject…er, patient, in our defense. Our intentions are good, One."

The Director turned to Franky and Usopp neutrally. "The decision is yours; I have no reason to distrust them."

"One question," Usopp stalled, still unwilling to hand Sanji into their care so easily, "just how good are you? As doctors, I mean."

They wasted no time in consulting or even sneaking a glance at each other; all five Medics were smiling widely underneath their masks.

"We're very hardworking and resourceful, and we're always up-to-date despite the medical ban on this island," Fourteen supplied helpfully, hiding behind Two when Franky and Usopp looked her way. "P-please give us a chance?"

Franky and Usopp  _did_  consult with each other, and through a lot of deep thought, soul-searching, and a game of "We-trust-them, We-trust-them-not" à la  _effeuiller la marguerite,_  they were ready to accept, with great trepidation.

"One condition," Franky drawled, leaning back in his chair and making a show of adjusting the settings on his left arm cannon in front of the Medics. "He gets worse in  _any_  way, you all die."

They were silent.

"Um…I don't…" Two rubbed her arm nervously. "I-I'm not sure that our lives depending on his unstable condition is exactly-"

"Okay, it's a deal," Usopp said before they could change his mind. He didn't think they were the manipulative sort, but his resolve was already wavering in the face of their woeful expressions. It wasn't that he wanted anyone to die, and it wasn't like they would actually follow through with their threats (not that the Medics needed to know that); he just wanted Sanji to be okay. And the more capable people they had watching him, the safer Usopp would feel about staying on the base. "If the Director trusts you, then I'm good too, but the condition still stands. Franky and I are not playing lightly with his life."

Two glanced at her fellow Medics and took a deep breath. "I...alright, we're on board. You can count on us."

Despite the tense situation in the room and their harsh exchange of an agreement, the Medics all smiled, genuine and bright. Usopp watched their easy camaraderie with a pang of jealousy and tried to remember the last time he and his crew had laughed so readily and with such abandon. Their smiling faces around the dining table that one last evening before the storm broke seemed like nothing but a distant dream, and he wondered when they would see each other again. All of them.

 _You too, Sanji,_ he thought wearily, following the lazy line of his heartbeat on the black monitor screen.  _You have to see us too…so please, wake up soon._

He squeezed Sanji's hand, but Sanji didn't squeeze back.


	21. Promises of Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain is a great motivator, and information is often a valuable commodity in a place like Staithe, especially when you don't know exactly who you're teaming up with. Nami, Franky, and Usopp might care too much, Sanji might care too little, and Brook trusts no one but his captain.

It was nice when an enemy was as easy to take down as was the sentry posted at the end of the hallway, Nami smirked over the man's unconscious form on the floor, especially when she didn't have to lift a finger against him. She let Duval stuff him into the nearest utility closet, rifling through the guard's wallet before tossing it in after him with a disappointed sigh. A few belis and a crumpled flyer for her troubles.  _Well, you can't have everything._

"You're a criminal," Sardoc grumbled from the bench they had deposited him on; he was better off out of their way while they figured out how to escape the building safely. Nami knew that she hadn't gotten far in the underground tunnels, but to discover that she had doubled back into the Dockmaster's offices was almost as disappointing as not being able to find anything worth stealing in this place. Add this annoying jerk to the mess and Nami could feel a new headache already begin to pound away at her temples.

She scowled at him. "Oh yeah? Well so are you, Mr. I'm-going-to-blow-up-half-the-harbor-in-an-attempt-to-kill-one-man-and-then-attack-his-crewmates-with-a-cheap-underhanded-trick!"

"At least I'm honest about what I am," he sneered, looking a lot less intimidating underneath his pink hospital blanket. "Feel free to keep pretending that you're better than me, you have my permission."

"I wasn't asking for it." She stuck her tongue out at him and turned around with a huff, intent on ignoring him to the best of her ability. It was nothing but an empty hallway waiting for her when she turned around, leaving her to wonder where their companion had gone. "What? Where in the world is Duval? We need to stick together if we're going to avoid getting caught."

"The exact opposite is true, actually," Sardoc said informatively. "It's damnably easier to escape detection if you have at least one poor sap to take the fall for you, preferably  _very_  far away as you make your escape."

Nami was astounded at how much frustration one man could inspire towards her increasingly horrible headache. "Figures you would say something like that. We are not using Duval as a distraction, you jerk!"

"I'm just saying that sometimes a life of crime requires a little sacrifice, okay?"

"We are not committing a crime here!"

"Oh, yeah? Why are you sneaking around and attacking the guards, then?"

_"Shut up, you two!"_

Duval loomed over them with a terrifying dark glare on his face, and they immediately apologized and backed away, nearly clinging to each other out of shock. He rolled his eyes and gestured around the corner, where the low sounds of a conversation drifted out into the hall and towards their hiding place. "We'll all pretend that you weren't being idiots and move on to the important things. Like this cute date I just picked up."

Nami and Sardoc bristled, while Duval turned around and strode cheerfully down the hall towards the source of the voices.  _"How is that important, moron?"_

They found themselves in a large office that had been turned into a holding cell, apparently. All of the desks and chairs had either been removed or stacked against the wall to block the only other exit to the room: the windows. On the worn wooden floorboards there were two long benches lined with thick metal rings; hanging off of them were numerous chains that had only recently been holding prisoners. The new escapees were crowded around a young woman in what was left of her dirt-stained clothes, who Nami recognized as the doctor and assistant to the Dockmaster from before the attack on the harbor. "Hey, it's that cute doctor who calmed Chopper down…"

"That's what I said," Duval sighed, kneeling down next to her and gently taking her hands into his. "Are you feeling better, my sweet Ghea?"

"A lot better without that seastone around my wrists," she smiled, leaving Duval with a sloppy grin on his face. "Thank you for saving us, Duval."

Her gaze drifted up towards Nami, and she gasped, "Miss Sami! I saw your friend a few days ago, but I had assumed the rest of you had left Staithe already. Huh?"

Nami ignored her look of surprise and Duval's stammered protests as she draped her coat around the doctor's shoulders, careful to slip the two vials from the breast pocket and into her sleeve. "Don't worry about it, this is yours now. Ghea, was it? Well, you helped out back then when Chopper was upset and I'm really grateful for it, plus it's really cold in here too, isn't it?"

"It is awfully cold," Ghea nodded thoughtfully, missing the low groan that Duval gave once she was covered up. "You're so generous, Miss Sami."

"Nami, actually. Think nothing of it; a girl deserves to have cute things too." She narrowed her eyes at Duval, who pouted and looked away sullenly. "…and deserves to be protected from some charlatan's perverted eyes ogling her,  _Duval_."

The man had the audacity to look offended. "Hey, I can admire beauty in people other than myself, too!"

"Don't give me that," she hissed in as loud a whisper as she dared. "You were nearly drooling over her right now."

"Like you're any better," he retorted quietly, glancing at the hopelessly confused Ghea who was wondering why they were whisper-shouting over her. "Miss…Miss Can't-keep-her-hands-to-herself!"

Nami gasped like he had slapped her across the face, never mind that she had "forgotten" to drop her hands away from Ghea's shoulders after giving her the coat. "I-I have never, and I mean  _never_. How dare you, again I say how  _dare_  you!"

"Would you two get over yourselves?" Sardoc moaned, joining the former prisoners on the benches with a sigh. "You're embarrassing me."

"Says the man wearing a pink blanket like a cape!" they yelled back in chorus, and he shrank under the blanket with a tiny shiver.

"It's dusty rose," he muttered feverishly, catching Ghea's attention and concern instantly.

"Oh, my…"

Nami and Duval fumed when she laid her hand across his forehead, but she was already focused entirely on the man she considered her next patient, giving a small gasp and murmuring under her breath worriedly. "You feel warm…let me get my things, you might need-  _Mr. Noerthe?"_

"Yes, Ghea?" Sardoc raised his eyebrows at her, nodding at the stethoscope she had raised to his chest. "As selfless as this is, I'm not someone you want to break the law of the island for."

Ghea stifled a shy laugh, the tips of her ears turning red as she looked away in embarrassment. "I-I…that's what I was arrested for, actually."

Duval stared at the young woman, slack-jawed and speechless. Nami was sure that her expression looked much the same, but the familiarity in the way that they had addressed each other caught her attention immediately.

She narrowed her eyes at Sardoc. "You two know each other?"

"Passing acquaintances," he muttered while at the same time Ghea exclaimed enthusiastically, "Mr. Teght Noerthe was a guest of ours while he and the Dockmaster worked out some trade contracts and certificates on behalf of the Inner Cities Exchange. It was a pleasure having him here. He's been to so many places and seen so much, and there's nothing like spending an evening by the fireplace, listening to his stories."

Sardoc looked as astounded as Duval and Nami; he rubbed the back of his neck and dropped his gaze away from them, asking in a quiet, nervous way, "you don't actually mean that, right?"

Ghea laughed lightly and shook her head like she thought that was a ridiculous question. "Of course I do! I was hoping you had made it out alright after the catastrophe on the harbor. We couldn't find you in all the confusion, and then the Peace Guard arrived…"

Sardoc seemed to wilt further and further with every word that she said, and the guilty, somber look in his eyes was begging Nami not to mention anything about his part in instigating the attack. His face was flushed with more than just fever, and he couldn't even look up at Ghea anymore. "…I made it out before everything blew up. Sorry for not sending word that I was fine."

"It was so chaotic out there; I'm just glad you were okay. Are you sure I can't help at all?" she pressed, her face kind with earnestness. Oh, that  _had_  to make him feel remorseful, if the crestfallen look on his face was anything to go by. Nami almost felt bad for him, but she was more overwhelmed by the fact that  _he_  was overwhelmed.  _So, the heartless jerk has feelings, huh?_

Sardoc shook his head, looking extremely uncomfortable. "It's fine; just tell us what's been going on in this place and how long ago that girl's friend was seen here. I have a feeling she'll want that information eventually."

"Do you mean Franky?" Ghea glanced back at Nami, who felt her heart jump at the mention of her friend. She would give anything to find them all, alive and well. "He left the same day your ship did, into the forest to find the Biles. I distracted the guards long enough for him to escape, but…oh, the Dockmaster told me the most terrible thing! They were being hunted down, Miss Nami!"

Nami knew, from the fearful look in Ghea's wide eyes, that her expression was harsh and intense. She tried to soften her look, but the thought of that woman's voice ordering the capture of her friends was infuriating. "That's probably HQ's doing. She wants to take Sanji away from us, but there's no way we're letting that happen."

"What does she want with the young master?" Duval wondered with a frown, rubbing his chin and shooting the others a questioning look. "Don't tell me he has  _another_  lookalike."

"Not everyone wants revenge on him for that stupid poster," Nami growled, feeling like she would gladly take a punch to the face in order to distract herself from her headache.  _Or throw a punch at this idiot…that could work too._

"That's our thing!" Duval groaned from behind his hand, massaging his bruised cheek with a baleful look. " _Ours_ , not his and HQ's. I-I'm sorry, I'll stop talking now."

Nami straightened up and tried to hide her hands as she rubbed her wrist. That had hurt more than she meant it to. "Good, now this is what I need you to do. Get Ghea and everyone else out of here. I can guarantee that when Luffy gets back, this place is going to be too dangerous for them. If anyone is still on the port, warn them to get out while they can, okay?"

"Yeah, I can do that, but what about you?" Duval asked, watching her stalk off towards the open door of the office, peering around for any guards that might be making any rounds nearby. "This place is crawling with guards. You're better off waiting for your friends to get here, considering the odds of getting past these guys alone."

"Duval, that's…" Nami stopped and drew in a quivering breath. "Sanji is my friend, and I'm tired of leaving him to fight out there on his own. I have to try."

"Don't go alone, Miss Nami," Ghea pleaded, clutching her sleeve with a trembling hand. "It's too dangerous out there; they say that there were fires out in that forest.  _Explosions_. And this morning I swear I heard howling on the bay before daybreak."

Nami smiled despite herself, remembering her terrifying encounter in the tunnels beneath the island. "I know, Ghea. I think I had a passing brush with whatever's the source of the howls."

Duval gave her a look of disbelief. "You were shaking when I found you. Whatever it was had you scared out of your mind, and you want to go back out there?"

"Yeah," she said, almost choking on the palpable fear rising in her chest. Those monsters had all of the waterways and by extension, the Inner Lake and the sea within their access. There was no escaping them wherever she chose to go. "I guess I do."

There was a low thump from the corner of the room, and they looked back to find Sardoc leaning against a broken table piled with stolen uniforms. In a similar fashion next to him was a pair of unconscious guards, beaten and stripped down to their underclothes. "Whatever your choice, it can't hurt to have a little help from our friends over here. But we're wasting time here talking when we should be moving to get as far away as possible when the next round of sentries comes by."

He looked at Ghea with an apologetic smile and nodded at Nami. "I'll look after her, Ghea. Just stick with the others and try to stay out of trouble."

Ghea nodded, a look of relief on her face. "Will you two be alright?"

"Don't worry about me, Ghea; I'll be back as soon as I can," Nami promised, slapping Duval's hands away from the young woman's shoulders with a smile. "As for that guy, he seems to be doing fine on his own. Please bear with the company I'm leaving you; it's only for a while."

"Thank you, Miss Nami," Ghea whispered, pulling the coat around her a little tighter. "Take care of yourself, and let Franky know that I'm alright. I'll do the same with your crew!"

"That's a deal!"

As the group packed up and began to disappear down one of the smaller hallways, one by one, Ghea seemed to hang back with Nami and Sardoc, and for a moment Nami thought she would have to force the young woman to go ahead. Duval looked back at them and waited at the open door, keeping an eye out for the rest of the escaped prisoners.

Ghea sighed. "Mr. Noerthe, I need to ask you a favor. If you see the Dockmaster, could you please…um, I just want him to know…"

"I'll let him know you made it out safely," Sardoc said, saying nothing about the silent tears running down her cheeks. Nami followed his example and watched Ghea bow her head gratefully and run to Duval's side at the doorway, where the pair vanished soon afterward into the dark corridor. Whatever was the reason behind her tears, she knew it would have to wait. Ghea didn't look like she had really wanted to talk about it anyway.

"She's going to be okay," Sardoc muttered, and Nami tightened her grip on the Perfect Clima-tact at her side. This was as much for his own reassurance as for hers, but she wasn't sure just how much she trusted him or his supposed feelings yet.

"They all will," she agreed. "But why are you really coming with me? I doubt that you actually care about what happens to me or what Ghea thinks of you."

He snorted. "More like I'd rather not get my head smashed into the wall by that damn brute Duval."

Nami followed him out into the hallway and fully disguised, they slipped past the first posted sentries doing rounds in their section; it was only a matter of time, even minutes, before they discovered that the prisoners were gone. If their luck held out, she wouldn't have to worry about them for a while. "Oh, yeah? Somehow, I'm having trouble figuring you out. If that's really all you want, then you would have run at the earliest opportunity, here and back on the ship the other day too."

"…I have a bad habit of getting dragged along by idiot pirates who don't know what their limits are. It's not like I can leave this place anyway, no matter how far I run—"

He smiled tightly, and the dark circles under his eyes looked even more pronounced with his sickly pallor in this light. "At least this way you get a shot at making a break for it, right? What does it matter whether I'm doing this for a good reason or not?"

She looked at him in concern, but she couldn't say that she exactly trusted him enough to let him know that.  _And there's also the matter about Sanji and this Project, too. Sardoc was working for them…_ "Whatever, you'd better not slow me down. My only goal is to find my friends and get out of here. Try anything funny with Sanji and I won't hesitate in acquainting you with the business end of this staff. Trust me, you'll wish it was a gun."

"Does it shoot sharp, pointy objects?" he asked delicately, giving the staff a skeptical look.

"Lightning, among other natural disasters."

"You must be a hit at parties," he drawled, but there was a sardonic smirk on his face that made him look a little more like himself.

Nami grinned and threaded her fingers between the three segments so that he could see the individual poles separately and easily. "There's a funny story about that; the original version of this wasn't even supposed to be for battle, you know."

She launched into an animated re-telling of her first battle with the Clima-tact in Alabasta, complete with gestures and dramatics with the Perfect Clima-tact as a prop. Chuckling, she shared the story of the festivities in the aftermath of the war in the Country of Sand, and how her "weapon" actually  _had_  been the life of the little celebration party between her and her friends. She didn't know why, but seeing as genuine a smile as the one Sardoc wore on his face made her feel lighter in a way, and when she finally got him to laugh, she managed to forget that she was supposed to hate him, just once.

* * *

Brook was one of the few who hadn't put his weapon down, though it was sheathed, even as a proper discussion had opened up between the three opposing pirate groups. It hung at the crook of his arm, inconspicuous and safe…at least, for as long as the peace held. He hadn't forgotten how to protect and defend even in the midst of diplomacy; that was engrained into the marrow of his bones. He knew that Zoro was thinking the same thing, if the tension in his posture was anything to go by. They'd had too many losses in the past few days.

Khalashtrogos refused to say anything more on Captain Duparis, claiming that speaking on his behalf would surely be a sign of disrespect. His smile became cryptic when they asked what he meant, and he simply stated that "some voices just cannot be spoken over, no matter how reticent the tone."

"Ask your friend about it someday," he chuckled in response to their frustrated protests, "I'm sure the conversation will be compelling enough for both parties."

He did, however, say that Sanji was alive the last time he saw him back at the Biles on the island several days ago. Screaming his head off and raising up quite a storm, of course, but alive and breathing. "A welcome change from that unsettling silence all the way down to the hospital...although I have to say, he is such a troublesome character."

"I-impossible," Chopper stammered from Robin's side, and the "Demon-eyed" pirate shot him a penetrating look that sent a visible shudder through the archaeologist's body. The reindeer doctor flinched but didn't let himself be cowed. "Sanji was unconscious by the time we decided to leave that morning, and you must have arrived at the hospital late at night. He had already gone through severe trauma and nearly a day's worth of fever and infection untreated; how was he even up?"

"The Biles is a hospital of legend for a reason," Khalashtrogos said, leaning on his ship's railing as his men hung back behind him. He had directed himself at Chopper, though occasionally his gaze drifted towards Luffy, who was perched on the Sunny's lion head and glaring vehemently at all of them. "There is no medical care like it, as illegal as that is around here. It wasn't long before they had him awake and alert, which in retrospect was a terrible idea. I saw him put at least four of them into the wall before they restrained him, but I suspect that was mostly because he was outnumbered. The way he was carrying on, you'd think that they were trying to impose treatment without his consent. What, they were?"

One of the men at his side nodded slightly, to which he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, then. Still entirely overblown. What was it that he said to you, Balkos?"

"A list of completely outrageous demands, sir," Balkos recited like he had practiced this speech before they had arrived. "He insisted on knowing where he was, what they were trying to do to him, and went so far as to order them to let him go, of all things. If I remember correctly, someone suggested muzzling him just so we could have a moment to hear ourselves think over his screams."

Brook could almost feel his pulse pounding in veins long since gone from his body. "Don't talk about Sanji like he's some kind of animal. If any one of you cowards had even bothered to treat him as a fellow human being, he wouldn't have been in such a state of emotional distraught."

Khalashtrogos grinned with a certain viciousness. "We had our Balkos settle that as well, didn't we? I've never seen someone brought to heel in only so many words, men."

His crew muttered jokingly amongst themselves, some of them laughing outright in front of the Straw Hats and their friends. Brook had a sinking feeling about it, and his stomach gave an involuntary lurch when he saw the reluctant, subdued expression on Balkos' face. "Docile as a lamb, sir. Not even pointing a gun between his eyes would have tamed him faster."

He wanted to remark on Balkos' apparent somberness; this man from among a pack of cruel, mocking pirates couldn't actually feel guilt over whatever he had done, right? But Luffy was on his feet, towering over Khalashtrogos and his men even though their ships were separated by countless meters of open water; his scowl was thunderous enough to shadow the stormy clouds overhead.

"If I find out you hurt him in  _any_  way," their captain said in a dangerous growl, "I will personally bring you down as low and beaten as you made him feel, one by one, until you're as 'docile as a lamb', whatever the hell  _that_  means."

Some of the men looked taken aback, almost outraged, but Khalashtrogos smiled and rested his chin in his hand. "I look forward to it, Straw Hat."

"Don't call me that. Why are you here anyway?"

"That's a simple question," the man replied. "I came for them."

The Pirate Captain and his crew were white with fear, but the captain bowed his head and gave a thin, resigned smile. "We know, and we expected it. The only thing I ask is that you let the rest of them go. I'll stay on their behalf."

"What did you do?" Luffy snapped, hauling the Pirate Captain to his feet. Zoro and Robin were already at the forecastle, tensed to fight. Issok and Captain Thaddeus had exchanged a silent glance as well, like they were waiting on a cue from Luffy to come to his aid as well.

"W-what are you doing?" the Pirate Captain yelped, tugging on Luffy's arm as he struggled to get free. "We're enemies! Why are you defending us?"

"You idiot! Like we're just going to let that bastard do whatever he wants and kill you! I hate him!"

"We were  _just_  trying to kill each other not five minutes ago!"

"Shut up and tell me what's going on!" Luffy yelled, raising his fist up like he wasn't sure who he was aiming to hit first, the Pirate Captain or the Demon-eyed Pirate. Khalashtrogos just looked vaguely amused by the entire thing, though his subtle grasp on the sword at his side did not escape Brook's notice.

He was on the railing within a second, leaning on his own sword with a practiced air of nonchalance as he bared a toothy smile at the men on the other ship. "I suggest that someone start explaining things to my captain before jumping at the mere off-chance that there will be another fight. The word is mightier than the sword, isn't it?"

Balkos nodded quickly before his captain could respond. "Honest words, strange swordsman. How much did they pay you to send that distress call from our ship, pirate?"

The Pirate Captain sighed and rolled his eyes. "If only…they paid us in promises that they wouldn't use certain things against us."

Blackmail. So, HQ and her people would use that information to manipulate people as well. Robin looked sick with fear, and he was beginning to worry that she would collapse outright with the way she was pushing herself. They needed time to rest and figure out just what was going on, without pirate crews holding them in a hostile standoff on the storm-ridden sea. He needed to end this quickly.

"Okay, this is good," Brook said. "Let's keep the peace going, alright? She basically used you, but it's understandable considering the circumstances. So, she had you set up a false alarm on Khalashtrogos' ship to lure him back out here, and deduction states that it was because she wanted the hospital cleared of anyone who might interfere with her plans. What reason can you come up with for that?"

There was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the sudden rainshower or the ocean spray coming off the waves. Khalashtrogos wore something close to an expression of dread, and Luffy glowered at the Pirate Captain, who had gone silent and limp in his grasp.  _"No…"_

"Yes," the Pirate Captain muttered, unable to look up at any of them. "She planned everything from the start. By now, the Biles has to be nothing more than ruins, and the likelihood of survivors is next to none."

"You mean…?" Brook felt like his heart had stopped, frozen by poison again; time seemed to be stretching on like rubber, one second grinding into an eternity. Sanji couldn't be dead…she couldn't have won, not HQ. It just wasn't possible. "You're lying."

"I-I wish I was, but-"

Robin cut them off with a furious wave of her arm, setting the slow-dying fire on the water into a frenzied shower of flames. "Enough."

The Pirate Captain and his crew shrank back in wide-eyed terror, unable to relax even when she made no motion to attack them. He could understand why; when she had brought the crew to their knees and ended their battle, she had moved her power in a way that he had never seen before. The battlefield wasn't just overwhelmed with her attack, but  _shrouded_  in it. Perhaps she had gone way past the limit of her abilities, but even the sight of her half-formed clones (covered with countless eyes and limbs and dripping with the light of reflected flames off a hail of sheer white flower petals) storming the sea like a credible army was enough to strike fear into any man's heart. It was no wonder that he had heard some of the men muttering things like "a terror of heaven" and "vengeful angels dripping in holy fire". She probably had no idea of the true effect her fury had on these pirates.

She stared icily at all of them, which only had the other pirates cowering beneath the weight of her steely glare. Her jaw clenched.

"Listen to this carefully, because I am going to address this audience exactly once before we return to the island." Some of the men began to whisper fearfully to each other. "Yes, and I mean  _everyone_. Even you, Khalashtrogos. You've all been instigators, perpetuators, or otherwise hampered our efforts to help and protect our friends at every turn, causing one of the most spectacularly disastrous chain of events that this island has probably seen in recent years. There is no excuse for what you've done, do you understand?"

There were murmurs of assent from most of the pirates, including Balkos who was looking guiltier and guiltier by the second. Brook had to wonder; just what had he done that made him act so remorseful about the topic of Sanji and the past few days?

He didn't have time to reflect on it as Robin had pressed onward. "Good, now this is the general plan: we were already planning on returning to the island, but now we are going to storm that port with everything we've got. With you on our side, we are likely still outnumbered, but that doesn't matter. As decoys, as distractions, or as allies, whatever you choose, we are going to work together and take them back from HQ. She does not get to use us, and we will not be run off because first and foremost, we are  _pirates_  and  _pirates_  take what they want.  _No_   _one_  gets to use us for their own gain like this. _I for one am not going to stand for it!_ "

Luffy was nodding along with a huge grin, sheer pride and excitement making his eyes crinkle at the corners. He looked like he could barely contain his laughter at this point.

Robin turned to him with a smile amidst an astounding roar of cheers and agreement. "I hope that was okay, captain."

"You were awesome," he laughed, throwing his arms around her. "I couldn't have said it better."

"Robin, you were so brave!" Chopper marveled, clinging to her pants leg with wide, tearful eyes. "Please don't push yourself anymore, okay?"

As she tried to ease his fears and concerns, Brook and Zoro shared a look and nodded quietly to each other.

"We need to organize everyone now and have the ships ready to move out." Brook looked at the pale white mist obscuring the horizon, and further on, the dark outline of Staithe Wharf. "Whatever is happening on that island, we just need to keep hoping that our friends are more valuable to HQ alive and try to get them out as soon as possible."

Zoro shrugged. "Even if that woman decides to blow up the whole island, we have to believe that they're strong enough to survive until we find them. It's as simple as that."

They discovered their captain slinking over to them and pulling them both in for a huge, uncomfortably close hug; his face was wide with a beaming smile. "Or we can just beat people up until we get what we want. Sounds good?"

Brook grinned down at Luffy and thought that their smiles could have matched, almost, if he still had any skin on his face. That was just like the captain: action until things resolved themselves, no explanations asked. It then occurred to him that no matter what they planned, Luffy didn't need any of it, not really. As for Brook, he would just put his trust in him. "It does, captain."

* * *

The Project really wasn't so bad, Franky thought, once they got past the part where they had tried to kill him and his friends. Everyone was nice enough even with all of the chaos they had managed to cause in Base AAGE, and the Medics nearly fell over themselves trying to please their new pirate guests. He barely had to open his mouth to ask for something when they were already at the present, a cup of steaming hot coffee in hand or (more often the case) some good food and a cola or two. Frankly, it was sort of stifling.

Still, they were good company when they weren't bending over backwards to keep him and Usopp happy, and Franky thought that it was in those moments when he felt content for the first time in days. He had yet to pin down the exact reason why.

 _It'll come to me eventually_ , he told himself as Ten and Nineteen finished up yet another hour of teaching him the lost art of quilling. They had helped him construct a very decent paper model of the Thousand Sunny's figurehead, though he felt that in the end they had probably carried most of the hard work required for the little project. They laughed and assured him that his technique for the lion's curly mane was promising before letting him apply it to a different venture, a scaled version of the ship's Soldier Dock System inner mechanism.

Franky smiled. Maybe it was an over-ambitious project, but they had no problems in letting him play around with their supplies. They seemed to have plenty of the paper around, anyway. Tightening the thin strip of paper around the needle, he planned out the shape and size of the next piece in the miniature system, and his gaze drifted across the models and works that the Medics had laid out for him to look at. A couple of them were frilly and cutesy, for lack of a better word, like flowers and kittens and other juvenile-looking objects, but what caught his attention was that the majority of their projects had a strange, almost chimerical quality to them. Hundreds upon hundreds of tiny coils made up these bizarre constructions: the serpentine tail of a fantastical sea monster, half-bent figures with elongated limbs, and eyes that covered every surface of their works. They all had an overlaying theme to them, sloping lines at opposite angles that looped off into a lavish curl. He couldn't help but to think that he had seen this before.

Before he could figure out how to bring the topic up, the Director's knock sounded at the door, a distinct light rap of her knuckles that sent the Medics scrambling to pick everything up. They swept the last of it into Ten's bag just as she stepped lightly into the room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. She raised an eyebrow at them. "I wasn't expecting to find you here."

"We were just talking," Nineteen shrugged, blocking their view of Ten for a moment, but he was sure that he saw her slip gloves on before smoothing out the hem of her red skirt. Franky noticed that Nineteen had shoved his hands into his pockets. "How's Not…um, Sanji? Not Not-Three, sorry. I mean, Sanji  _is_  his name, right? Is it okay to call him Not-Three? Do you think he would get mad if I call him that?"

"What this dork is trying to say," Ten interrupted with a playful roll of her eyes, "is 'how is the cutie doing?' Has he woken up yet? Oh! What are his baseline brain-readings at the moment? Have we ruled out any extensive damage to his neural stem cells and transmitters?"

The Director raised an eyebrow at them and smiled in exasperation. "You  _are_  doctors, aren't you? Go find out for yourselves and give me a report when you're done. I'll be checking for mistakes so pay attention to the details."

"Yes, One," they sighed in unison before bounding off towards the door, bag and supplies in tow. "We're not still kids, you know."

"Is that right? Maybe I should ask our friend here, because the only thing I see in front of me are  _yerkanen_."

Franky grinned and decided to stay quiet; it wasn't his place to get involved, even if it looked like some light-hearted teasing on the Director's behalf. Besides, he was curious as to the actual relationship between her and the Medics, and this was shedding some light on the way they behaved with each other.

"We're grown up now!" Ten said, wrinkling her nose underneath her mask and giving a little flounce of her skirt before leaving in a huff. Nineteen shrugged and followed along, a little less dramatic but still indignant at being treated like a child.

The Director's smile became a sly, cat-like grin, and she made it a point to get one last shot at poor Ten before the Medics got out of hearing range. " _Yerkanini_!"

There was a loud groan from Nineteen somewhere down the hall, and the Director laughed quietly, wearing what had to be the most tender expression Franky had ever seen on her face, but that quickly became forgotten when the Medics had gone and she brought out Sanji's folder. She was all business again, her mouth and eyes hard as she handed him the papers and began to explain what was written on them. The file was pale blue and stamped with the same bold black print he had seen on the one back at the Dockmaster's, but this folder was crisp and new and bright, making her hands look darker in contrast.

She was good about keeping him updated on Sanji's status, although sometimes he got lost in all of the medical terms and jargon she used.

"He's doing as well as can be expected," she said, taking Ten's seat on one of the chairs in the empty study. No one had been around to bother them, and he realized that it was because they were keeping the rest of the base's personnel away from him. "He's breathing on his own, and he's responding well to the antibiotics. It's a start."

"You sounded like you couldn't do anything for him earlier." Franky looked up from the stack of pages reluctantly; it wasn't like he could understand them anyway. "What changed?"

"Those powers are not the only way to heal him. What kind of a doctor would I be if I relied solely on them to help people in need of medical attention?" Her smile was a quick flash across her face, and he realized that she was trying to be more comforting with what she said, especially after the small debacle earlier with her awful bedside manners. "It's going to take time, patience, and care, but he has a good chance of a full recovery."

"And Usopp?"

She chuckled. "Stubborn boy, that one, but we convinced him to get some sleep… _real_  sleep in a _bed_. I was afraid he would run himself to the ground, the way he was fussing and hovering over your friend without rest."

"Can you blame us for wanting to look after him?"

"I don't, but neither of you is any use to him if you don't take care of yourselves first. You haven't been pulling the same stunts, I hope."

He shook his head. "It feels different for Usopp. I was there, too, but he…"

Franky wasn't playing his own feelings down; his grief had been just as real as Usopp's, but he remembered the moment that marked the difference between the two of them. The moment that Usopp realized Sanji was gone, something in his eyes had just dimmed. "It was like someone had suddenly drained everything that makes him Usopp away."

She rested her chin in her hand and gave a murmur of agreement. "There is something about the feeling…of someone's life leaving their body…it stays with you. A sort of fear settles into you, and you cannot help but blame yourself for not being able to stop it."

"It wasn't his fault," he retorted with a frown. "There was nothing anyone could do for Sanji at that point, even with your crazy powers."

"Except bring him back, apparently." The Director smiled in a way that said she still had no idea how she had done that (not that he honestly cared about answers anymore). "He still feels guilty about it. You see it, don't you?"

He did. Usopp spent almost every waking hour sitting at that bedside, his hands clutching Sanji's like they were a lifeline; while Franky was trying to make himself available to their hosts, Usopp refused to do anything (outside of the basic necessities) that would make him leave the room. Sometimes he could hear him talking to Sanji, making up stories and adventures based on a "Mr. Prince" character and occasionally even managing a smile or two, but most of the time he just sat in silence, eyes glassy and bright in the dim glow of the monitors.

"Yeah, but what good is that gonna do?" Franky sighed, fiddling around with the sheets on the table beside them. "Everything I say to him just goes right out the other ear. Until he decides he's ready, he'll stay there like he's chained to that bed."

"Hm, you speak from experience?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she just shrugged her shoulders. "I thought your wording was odd. You didn't say 'until Sanji wakes up', but…I agree with you, of course. It's just that forgiving yourself is the hardest thing a person can do, and  _that_  I can say from my own experience."

"I guess that I do too," he grinned, leaning back in his seat to see the damp, cold arches of the Water 7 rear docks and back-ways instead of Base AAGE's wooden beams spanning the ceiling. It surprised him that he hadn't thought about his friends back home in a while, or his family. Maybe it was because he knew that Iceburg was taking care of them; maybe it was because he had finally been ready to let go. "It took being kidnapped by my family, getting my pants stolen and my ass kicked…oh, yeah, and then I was almost emasculated, but then I got better."

The Director pressed her lips together, and he couldn't tell if she was dumbfounded or just trying to hold back laughter. She ended up just heaving a deep, possibly exasperated sigh. "If that's what it takes to forgive myself-"

Her eyes widened. "Don't you dare try that on poor Usopp!"

Franky burst into laughter as she shot him an indignant glare over the files on the desk. That was weird. When did the pile get so high?

"Maybe not this time," he said offhandedly, knowing that it would probably rile her up even more. He wouldn't do something like that to his friend (probably), but seeing her defensive reaction made him feel better about the way Usopp and Sanji would be treated here.  _She's protective of them, too. Good._

He tapped the first pile of papers on the table, noting that they weren't Sanji's charts but official-looking documents and reports. "What is all of this?"

"This is a selection from the old base archives," she replied, flipping through the files lightly with her fingertips. Her rifling stopped when she reached a few faded folders, yellowed from age and neglect. "The original index on Project Alleblått's files, its datasets, reports, listed personnel, and the first Key sequence. We have access to some of this here, but HQ has the rest locked up in the Inner Cities. What I'm trying to find is hopefully in the former, but if they took it…"

"And you're looking for what, exactly?" Franky asked, trying to keep up with her as she thought out loud. Half of what she was saying didn't even make sense anymore. The Normandeau Embargos of North Blue?  _Notre_   _Dame_? And what in the world was the Key sequence all about? "Wait, hold on. Did you just say that the Medics-?"

_"Sanji!"_

He felt like all the air had been wrenched out of his lungs; the absolute terror in Usopp's voice sent a shot of icy cold dread down his spine. The worst had happened.

He tore out of the room in a mad search for Usopp and Sanji's room, finding himself disoriented in the twisting maze of hallways that made up the base's protected inner quarters even though the increasing commotion told him that he was getting close. As he shoved past guards and staff members and through the doors dividing the sectors, he felt like he wasn't close enough, not nearly. A hundred different scenarios ran through his head, each going from bad to worse, and the silence on Usopp's part since that first blood-curdling scream left him breathless with fear. "I shouldn't have left them alone, I should have stayed with them,  _I shouldn't have left them alone_."

The door to Sanji's room was ajar; to be more accurate, it looked like it had been ripped off its hinges. Franky pushed it away and rushed into the room, ignoring the yelp of pain from the unfortunate bystander on the other side. Was Sanji…? He couldn't even think of it without feeling sick.

He found him standing like a statue at the foot of the bed, his clothes and hair rumpled from sleep and hanging haphazard on his gangly frame.  _"_ Usopp _,_ what _happened?"_

But Usopp didn't turn around when Franky called to him. He didn't even seem to be breathing, his back was that rigid and straight. All of his attention was focused on Sanji, who was awake for the first time in days, watching them with weary eyes and a trembling smile.

"Hey…" he croaked, and it was like someone had put everything back into motion.

Usopp was a blur, throwing himself past the Medics at his bedside and into Sanji's lap, not crying but full-out sobbing with every heaving breath he took.  _"S-Sanji! I-I…I'm so glad you're okay!"_

Franky didn't get to see much of Sanji's reaction because his vision had begun to blur, but he caught the surprise in his eyes before the waterworks started with him, too. "D-dammit, someone should do something about this underground air. I swear my allergies are acting up. Cook bro-" his voice cracked in an embarrassing way, but he pretended not to notice "-it's good to see you again."

"I could say," Sanji coughed lightly, but it was enough to shake his thin frame violently, "the same about you. Hey, don't look at me like that, Usopp."

Usopp's eyes and nose were streaming messily as he lifted his head to look at Sanji, and upon meeting Sanji's gaze he dissolved into a fresh wave of tears, burying his face in the sheets like he was ashamed. "I'm s-so sorry…even after all the times you helped me, I-I… _I couldn't do anything for you!_ "

"Usopp…" Sanji's voice was quiet and soft, something that was as rare as his genuine laughter. "You're here with me, aren't you? That's enough."

Usopp couldn't even speak anymore. He threw his arms around Sanji, the sheets twisted in his hands and tangled around the pair of them as he shuddered with barely restrained sobs, tensing up and giving a small whimper when Sanji placed a hand on his back.

"Don't cry, Usopp," Franky sniffled, blinking rapidly because obviously the cooks in this place were using what had to be several pounds of onions in today's menu- "Oh, screw it; I'm crying. We should…"

He choked halfway through a gesture at the general room area, caught between a smile and a sob. "…we should sing a song or something to commemorate this moment. Is that a thing we can do?"

"Franky." Sanji's eyes were full of laughter, and that was something he had believed he would never see again. Damn these tears for making everything blurry. "Get over here, idiot."

He didn't need to be told twice; Franky pulled them both into a tight squeeze of a hug, shaking with great trembling sobs that felt like relief and guilt all at once. It wasn't fair that Sanji was the bedridden one, badly injured and obviously in so much pain, but they were the ones who needed comfort anyway. "S-sorry, bro, I just…sorry."

"Shit, you're so stupid," Sanji murmured in a tired but warm voice, bringing one of his arms up to embrace Franky. "It's okay, you're okay. You did everything right, and I'm so glad you're here… please don't cry anymore, everything's okay."

Franky was overwhelmed by the moment and he didn't pay it much attention, but when he looked back on it, he could remember hearing tears hiding beneath Sanji's exhausted voice. They had been so caught up in his physical wellbeing, his health, and on him just waking up and bouncing back from everything that had happened, that he felt like they neglected something just as important. There was so much relief and happiness at finding that their friend was awake ( _he's going to come back with us, he's going to live_ ), and it was easier pretending that things were okay even when the extent of his emotional distress was clear as day in Sanji's eyes. They didn't even ask him about what he had gone through, like his ordeal never existed.

"Don't think about it anymore, Franky…it's okay."

Franky wished he could turn back time just to tell Sanji that it was okay, too.

* * *

He'd had a nightmare.

Sanji barely felt the Medics attending to him, nodding a numb consent to whatever medication they were planning to pump into his system to help him recover. Apparently he looked exhausted to the point that he needed drugs, or sleep. It didn't matter.

What bothered him was hearing the story, from the guards of all people, that one of his closest friends had been screaming Sanji's name in his sleep and had been depriving himself of sleep until he was on the verge of collapsing (possibly  _because_  of the nightmares). If that wasn't enough, Usopp had burst into his room looking like a complete wreck, eyes wild and red-rimmed and haggard. He'd cried upon seeing Sanji awake and (semi-)conscious; he blamed  _himself_  for what Sanji had gone and done on his own.

Sanji opened his tired eyes and looked across the room at the guards in the doorway, occupied in a little discussion over what had happened.

"Then the little brat got me across the jaw and ran away," Slate growled, rubbing his cheek gingerly and shooting a glare at his companions snickering away at him. "Shut up! You guys chased him through the entire compound until he made it to the infirmary, and you couldn't even manage to catch him."

They fell silent and looked away, red-faced and sullen to Slate's accusation. It wasn't like they could deny it, after all.

The unfortunate Slate wasn't catching a break from the Medics, however, who weren't at all subtle about their amusement over Usopp throwing him off guard with a blow to the face. All of them sent each other laughing looks, which of course infuriated the guard even more, at least until Twelve (the only one to show a bit of concern) stepped in.

"Here, let me take a look." Twelve brushed his fingers against his bruised jawline. "It doesn't look so bad, no signs of swelling or anything. Do you want-"

Slate caught his arm and forced him away. "Just don't."

Twelve looked away and occupied himself with one of the monitors at the end of the bed, and Sanji was unable to see the rest of their exchange when the other Medics crowded around him. It angered him that he was nothing but a silent spectator to everything in his surroundings and even angrier that he couldn't find the energy to care even about that. What was wrong with him?

Fourteen glanced up from the readings on the charts in her gloved hands. "You look tired."

Considering the mess of a body he was the proud owner of, he thought he looked pretty good right now. "I'm fine."

"We aren't talking about physically," Nineteen clarified lightly, eyes twinkling in amusement, "though you really wore yourself out there. Some sleep would do you a world of good."

Sanji frowned, feeling his head begin to pound in protest to the mere attempt at arguing. He didn't have the energy for this. "I don't-"

"Lie all you want, but it's written on your face." Two raised her brow at him, elegant and cold; even in the glare of the overhead lights he could tell she was frustrated with him. He didn't blame her, not after he passed himself off as Three in front of everyone. She glanced at the doorway and motioned at the guards briskly, and they left quietly, leaving Slate and Auburn the only ones remaining. "You look more than spent; this is more like you look one step away from a breakdown."

Sanji blinked rapidly and turned his gaze to the steady drip of his IV. "Please, just stop talking."

"Two, leave him alone." Ten smiled gently at him, which made him feel bad for ignoring her, but if he looked over at any of them he knew that he wouldn't be able to control himself anymore. "He can talk with his friends when he wants to, or with us, or even HQ for what it's worth! But you know, cutie, the problem isn't on the outside at all. Some things are gonna call for you to talk, if you want to get better. Hey…it's okay, Sanji. Why are you crying?"

"Because my friends are hurting and I'm stuck useless in this bed." Sanji felt his face burn with shame and hot, messy tears. Even his throat ached with every broken breath he took, and his lip wouldn't stop trembling no matter what he did. "They did everything they could, they fought so hard, and now they're crying over me. I want to do what  _I_  can now and protect them. They don't need me like this, they need me to be strong.  _I don't want to let them down anymore."_

His voice cracked, and his mind exploded into a racket of shit-shit- _shit_  and anger and confusion; why was he so fucking stupid and weak? "Three was right, I should have just left while I could. Maybe then none of this would have happened."

Fourteen's eyes were as soft as feathers, pale and blue. "You know you don't have to do everything on your own. It's okay to need someone to lean on; sometimes, it's the only way you can get through the crap that life throws at you."

Sanji squeezed his eyes shut, dismayed when they didn't stop streaming. "W-what if…I'm the one who causes all the crap in the first place?"

"Sometimes it does feel like that, doesn't it?" Twelve said quietly from the corner, a smile evident in his voice. "It's hard, but you don't have to go through it alone. You have friends who love you, and people who want to help you  _here_. That's why friends exist, Sanji. Not for the good times by themselves, but for every cruddy shitty thing that happens, too."

He knelt down next to the bed, turning a mischievous smile towards Sanji without reserve. "Hey, you wanna do something crazy?"

Sanji frowned wearily. "What?"

"This is what's going to happen: you let go. Let go of everything that hurts right now, and I promise you that you are going to feel so much better. Maybe even the best ever. Wanna try, amigo?"

Upon seeing the confusion on his face, Two sighed and began to pull some of the wires from the monitor closest to her. "We're going to help you get back on your feet. You asked, didn't you?"

She paused midway through her pointless, almost careless disabling of all of the machines around them, and her dark green eyes, the complete opposite of Twelve's, could have been cut from stone. There was nothing questioning in her gaze; she was expecting an answer.

Sanji clenched his jaw and just  _felt_  the pain and exhaustion all the way down to the marrow of his bones. "Do whatever you have to; I can handle it."

The Medics shared a long, hard look, like they didn't believe what they had just heard. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of a breathless silence, Ten gave an excited cry and clasped Sanji's bandaged hands in her own. He could feel the warmth of her skin through her gloves and the bandages. "We have an idea, probably. It could possibly work. You'll be as good as new if nothing backfires."

"I'm fine with that," he repeated, wincing when she squeezed his hands a little too tight. "I trust you."

"You know, if we miscalculate even once," Nineteen noted, sliding the injection smoothly into the IV feed, "you'll die horribly. I'm not exaggerating. If this whole idea is trash, we all die."

"Wait, what?" Sanji narrowed his eyes at them. " _We_? There's no-"

He groaned, feeling the full effect of his injuries without the wonderful, safe buffer of the narcotics they had him on. "Did you have to cut those so soon?"

"If it keeps you from arguing, yes." Fourteen looked down at him with a strange expression in her soft eyes. She was both firm and gentle, both in her manner of speaking and in her treatment of him. "Now, you just said you trust us, and that's an incredible leap of faith that we appreciate immensely. But you're still thinking in terms of  _me_ , not  _we_. On your own, we can't do much for you, it's as simple as that."

Sanji stared at her, wondering how she couldn't understand. He was tired of dragging everyone down with him; what he wanted was to get better  _now_. There was an honesty in her words that caught his attention, though. "Am I really that bad off?"

"If it's healing you're worried about, you'll eventually be up and about, with a long, arduous recovery period." She tapped the bandages on his chest with the tip of her finger, sending a burning pain radiating out into his body until he thought he would pass out. "Your body has a lot to repair and very little energy to do it alone. With spare energy, however…"

"It's your choice," Twelve shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "You can heal properly on your own, if you don't want to get anyone else involved. Or, if you take the risk, you could be out of that bed sooner than anyone could have expected. You could fight."

Sanji thought about what they were proposing to him. He could accept their help, and the responsibility of their lives if they all suffered horrible deaths together, for a chance to fight on his own again.

It was true that he didn't need to do it; Franky and Usopp weren't in any immediate danger (neither was he, as far as he could tell), and they would never, ever complain about having to look out for him. He could heal at his own pace, regain his strength little by little, maybe even eventually be himself again. His hands clenched at his sides as he realized what he was actually considering.  _I wouldn't just be a burden to them, I would be worthless. I wouldn't even be a comrade to them anymore._

That thought nearly froze him in fear and hesitation; it wasn't a possibility he had ever once considered before. Not until today…not until now. He decided before the words even formed in his mouth.

_"I'll fight."_


	22. The Revival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Medics have that whole dying business down, and the results couldn't be better. Unless, of course, they weren't actually dying. Sanji has to deal with the consequences of those risks and the people who would prefer that he _remain_ dead. And somewhere in the midst of it all, voices begin to echo loudly across time and space.

**Poupée, what's this? Will you show me something interesting today, little doll?**

Above the racket in his feverish, exhausted mind, Sanji could hear a voice cutting a clear path through the darkness. It was almost tangible in the way that he could feel the softness of its velvet tones, but there was a kind of dissonance in the way that he could taste the duplicity in its words, like mulled wine. The voice quieted all of the rest of the background noise and left him wanting more after every word it said, longing. He wanted to please it.

**I look forward to it, Normandeau.**

His thoughts drifted cheerfully on, unperturbed by the voice now that the whirlwind of sound and mismatched images had faded away. Time passed like a glacier overhead.

…something wasn't right.  _I don't remember that name._

**Of course you do.**

He protested; these thoughts didn't belong to him, and this voice shouldn't have been in his mind at all to begin with. Why was he feeling more and more fragmented the more he remembered? No, he didn't know what this was, but he wanted nothing to do with it.  _Leave me alone; you've got the wrong person._

The voice gripped him, strangling and painful, and he was shocked to find that it seemed to have a physical presence in this place. He turned around to face it (it was hard to tell what he was doing when he couldn't even see his body) and found himself face to face with a jagged mouth full of gleaming black teeth. The voice was a smoldering, choking shroud of laughter and sneering.

**What a pity. I think I'll have my fun with you anyway—**

"…hey, Sanji; you still with us?"

Sanji blinked slowly, the darkness behind his eyelids fading away into a faint dimness that even the glare of the operating theatre lights couldn't force out.  _It was just a hallucination._

He tried to turn in the direction that Nineteen's voice was coming from, but his body decided to remind him that its limits were long passed and behind them, somewhere between his first surgery and that whole dying business. His head felt like it was splitting from the inside, and his heart pounded angrily against his aching ribcage, reminding him that only very recently he'd had a bullet put through it. He wanted to claw at the horrible, empty feeling in his stomach beneath the bandages, anything to carve out the nauseating feeling of being starved ( _it's not hunger,_ he told the desperate little child of his memories on that rock,  _it'll pass quickly_ ). He was  _definitely_  not with them anymore.

"Yeah," he rasped, swallowing back bile that almost tasted like blood. "Only I think I'm dying again."

"You're doing a lot better than we expected," Nineteen confessed, taking a moment to give his hand a gentle squeeze. "Just hang in there, you won't be going it alone for long. We'll be strapped in within the next few minutes, I promise."

Sanji tried to lift his hand, reaching out to Nineteen as he turned away, but even that refused to respond to him anymore. He was every bit as helpless as he had dared to imagine only in his worst nightmares. "Y-you shouldn't…"

"It's okay, cutie," Ten soothed, brushing his bangs away from his face and laying a cool hand across his forehead. "We're going to do everything we can to take care of you, okay?"

"Ten, it's time to get hooked up." She smiled at him one last time before joining the others at the cart at the end of the bed, picking out a set of supplies from what appeared to be a tangled chaos of wires, tubes, and monitors that looked identical to the ones he was strapped into. They were actually serious about going through with this.

"Please…" They stopped and looked back at him, "I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."

Ten put her set down and took a step towards him, her round eyes wide and shimmering. "Sanji…"

 _"You'll die."_  He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, feeling the strain of his lungs struggling to keep working without the oxygen mask. "I want to get better, but not at a cost like this. Don't risk your lives for me,  _please_."

Two narrowed her eyes at him, but there was no anger in her expression as she regarded him lying there on the surgery bed. "We've been ordered to risk our lives repeatedly since we were 'born' into this world, for decisions and reasons that we had no say in. This time, we  _want_  to this. Isn't our choice just as important as yours, Sanji?"

"…why?" Sanji whispered, fighting against the black spots edging in at the edge of his vision. "Why are you choosing to do this for me? We barely know each other, and I did nothing but lie about who I was this whole time. You don't owe me anything."

She chuckled softly, reminding him of that peaceful, private moment on the library stacks earlier when she showed him the softer, more affectionate side of her serious personality. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders. "Because once, two very special individuals showed us that compassion and caring are always worthwhile. 'Do for others what kindness you can', is what the Zeros said."

She took a step back, her green eyes gazing expectantly at him. "In the end, we can't do anything unless you put in your part. But we really want to try, if you do too."

The Zeros' words echoed in his mind, and he thought about how throughout his nightmare of an experience on this island since he fell sick, it was the brief moments, the smallest instances of kindness, that he remembered above everything else. Three's concern, Five's honesty, the Medics' openness and selfless decision here in this room…he remembered how warm and happy he had felt at being included into their group so easily. He thought about his own friends, and how they would do the same, if they were here. Wasn't friendship all about kindness and standing together?

"Sanji?"

He nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. He felt someone's arms around his shoulders, and found himself smiling despite everything when one by one, the Medics embraced him tightly.

"We'll all get through this," Fourteen murmured into his ear, and he realized that she had removed her mask. He had never seen a more beautiful sight than the kindness in her face. "That's what we have to keep hoping, alright?"

Ten bounded over to them with an oxygen mask secured over her face in place of the heavy fabric of their uniform. The mask left her dark, stick-straight hair disheveled and messy, in contrast to Fourteen's red curls which held out admirably neat against the thick black straps. "And if we die, at least we'll all go together. Isn't that great?"

"Wonderful, Ten." Two knelt beside the bed and adjusted one of the cables plugged into the wall; she looked at them from underneath her blunt cut bangs, and the intensity of her eyes was all the more striking set against the simplicity of her cool dark skin and short black hair. "In theory, each of us should be able to handle the virus, so let's not be too dire in our predictions. Our chances may be better than we think."

"Optimism, huh?" Sanji croaked, doing his best to smile at them as they finished up the adjustments to his equipment. "I think that's possible. I'll try, at least."

"Good, we'll need you in good spirits if you want to pull through."

He watched them each take their place on the gurneys lined up next to his bed, connecting themselves to the arrangement of wires and tubes running through him. Before he knew it, there was a chain of Medics linked up to his body in what had to be the most medically unsound way he thought possible, even if they believed this idea could work. "…is this even logical? I know it's hardly safe but—?"

Twelve grinned over his shoulder at Sanji from where he stood at the other end of the row of beds, adjusting the settings on the cabinet of medical equipment they were ultimately going to be connected to. "It's medicine alright, but keep in mind this is highly experimental. You're basically a guinea pig right now along with the rest of us."

He glanced over the chain quickly, gaze sweeping across the other Medics as they checked their own monitors. "Everyone set?"

"This is as good as we're going to get," Nineteen sighed behind his oxygen mask, running his fingers through his brown hair nervously as he lay back on the bed. "So, this is what's happening. We're going to be getting a full dose of whatever is in your body, thinning it out enough that it's practically insignificant, allowing your immune system to jump start, probably."

Sanji bit his lip and nodded, ignoring the guilt coiled in the pit of his stomach. "What then?"

"That gives us", Twelve answered, shrugging his coat and shirt off and beginning the complicated process of connecting himself to the others, "maybe a thirty-second window to transfer enough of our own energy into your body, giving you the shock you need to heal at an accelerated rate. A mimicry of One's powers. Of course, that means all of us lose about 9-16 years of our potential lifespans, give or take a decade."

He slipped a couple of small white chips into his mouth, looping the wires attached to them over his shoulder before turning to address Sanji and the others. "If our hearts don't blow out from the strain, all the excess should ripple outward to the rest of us, leaving everyone only slightly frazzled and a little worse for the wear. Any questions?"

"I just have an observation," Slate grumbled from the door, where he and Auburn were standing a close guard against any intruders during the procedure. "You're all a bunch of morons and this can't possibly end in anything but your deaths."

Twelve raised his eyebrows. "And that bothers you?"

"It bothers me," Sanji groaned through gritted teeth, catching Two's attention and concern just enough that she sat up to check his readings. "In fact, I think it's doing something really bad to my heart right now."

"We need to start now," Two muttered, grabbing Sanji's hand and looking at Twelve with worry furrowing her brow. "He's deteriorating fast."

"You ready, Sanji?" Twelve called, ignoring the glares that Slate was giving him behind his back. "There's no turning back at this point, anyway. Just do what I told you and let us help you."

He paused, his hand frozen on the switch. "Or die trying, anyway."

 _"That doesn't help!"_  Sanji screamed as Twelve set the process off, and the machines roared to life with a resounding crack of electricity that filled the entire room with a blinding light. At first, he only felt the increasing pain that his body had started to become used to, as horrible and exhausting as it was. He thought that he could feel a sort of resonance from the Medics as their bodies adjusted to him, and then his heart literally, actually stopped.

That was when everyone spontaneously died.

* * *

The Director sighed and moved to pour herself another glass of wine, but the reproachful look she caught from the Chief made her pull back self-consciously. She sat back and stared miserably at her empty glass, wondering when she was going to get an escape from this meeting. On the other side of the room, Franky and Usopp looked just as unhappy and uncomfortable as she felt, and she couldn't decide who to feel more sorry for. Regardless, though they clearly wanted to be by Sanji's side, there was the matter of settling accounts with the Base and its personnel after all of the mayhem they had been involved in these past days.

The Director hated meetings like this.

Chief Prussian looked down his long, hooked nose at her with that proud, haughty stare he had directed her way for all of her years with the Project. He was just as intimidating and grim-faced as she remembered him, with a matching severe personality to boot. Age and stress had deepened the frown lines on his face, and his hair had lightened to a silver-blue color, but he had remained much the same these past seventeen years. (He still regarded her as property of the Project, for starters.)

"Also, considering the circumstances that surround the Directors' demise, as well as your…ahem, we'll call it a fugue, for propriety's sake…well, you can understand why I am less than enthusiastic about your unjustified takeover of the Project when you have so much obvious bias."

He glanced at her over the top of his cup of coffee with eyes that scrutinized her reaction for the most miniscule offense. "However, I am willing to hear your defense of your position, at the very least."

"Thank you, Chief Prussian," she said in a tight voice, clenching her fingers around the slender stem of her glass. "That is incredibly generous of you."

He waved his hand dismissively at her. "I am not one for so many pleasantries,  _som'av Mestres_ : tell me why you decided to come back to us."

She kept her voice as level and steady as she could. "I want to work towards the Project as much as you do."

"Do _not_  lie to me."

The Director found herself staring at the tip of a brandished rapier, mere inches from her nose and gleaming with an elegant peril that reminded her she was anything but invulnerable in this situation, even with her healing powers. She could see Franky and Usopp out of the corner of her eye, pale but furious behind the impassive hold that the Border Guard had them in.

"It's okay," she said hoarsely, feeling like she was trying to talk with a heavy weight on her chest. "There's no need for all of this."

The Chief nodded to his men stiffly. "Release them, they won't attack with 1E4592 in the current predicament."

"My name is Malakhmer Ctena," the Director glowered, "not 1E4592. I am neither the Project's subject nor its enemy."

"You would have traded Alleblått for a chance to save a little girl over seventeen years ago," he chuckled humorlessly, turning the jeweled hilt of the sword so it caught in the light; an aura of carmine red colored the bridge of her nose and cheeks like rouge. "Why wouldn't you do the same for this lost waif from some backwards dump in East Blue?"

She pressed her lips together, trying to keep the guilt and shame out of her expression, but by the way his black eyes glinted, she knew that she hadn't succeeded. "…you're right, I would. But I believe he's a worth-"

Chief Prussian shook his head disapprovingly at her, the hint of a smile on his pale lips. "You were always so sentimental about every poor creature you happened to pick up. That runt hasn't proven an ounce of merit yet. Surviving? Hah, anyone can survive. It's enduring that makes all of the difference at the Court."

"…the Court?" she asked quietly, relieved when he relaxed his grip on the handle and gave her a modicum of room to breath. "What is the Court?"

"There is a lot more working in the Blues to Alleblått: AAGE, Staithe, and the Sea Beasts are barely in the shallows, 1E4592." Chief Prussian smiled grimly, a dangerous light in his black eyes as he lowered his voice so that only she could hear. "I wonder if anyone will dare venture as deep as 0N1907 and 0N1911. The Zeros were a special breed."

Before she could give her hot retort, burning on the tip of her tongue, they were interrupted by an astounding chorus of shrieks from the hallway outside the left door, behind Usopp' startled face.

"W-what was that?" he yelped, glancing over his shoulder at the sentries posted at the door who looked just as confused as he did.

"That came from the Medics' quarters," the Chief and the Director said at the same time, glaring at each other for that unwanted coincidence.

"The Medics?" Franky stepped in front of Usopp and frowned at the guards when they wouldn't check on the source of the shouts in favor of keeping the pair of them restrained. The screaming gave no signs of stopping anytime soon. "What do you think they're doing in there?"

The Director looked up and listened to the horrific screams, and even the Chief lowered his sword and turned towards the astonishing din coming from the Medics' quarters. "Scrapbooking, most likely."

Franky and Usopp fixed twin scowls on her that said they thought she was completely deluded or just outright lying to them, but she was distracted by one of the guards from the Medics' quarters who arrived with some unsettling news.

She stood up suddenly, nearly bowling over the sentry in her rush to get to the door. "I'll go check on them, just to be on the safe side. Chief, I promise we'll continue this shortly?"

He scoffed and sank down in his seat with a peevish expression. "I remember how you keep your promises, 1E4592. Try not to abscond into the night again, if you would."

It was an indignity she had to bear, but the sounds from the hallway were becoming increasingly horrible and gave her no choice but to leave the room with the Chief's taunting smirk burning a fresh wound on her pride. He wasn't worth it, she reminded herself sullenly. Chief Prussian never really had been.

The Director found a gaggle of pale-faced guards outside the Medics' quarters, tense with fear and nervousness. They huddled against the wall as she approached, every one of them trying to hide behind the next like they were trying to avoid her. Really, now…how obvious could they be?

"Hiding something?" she said lightly and reached for the doorknob, pretending to be surprised when she found it was locked. "Now, why would you leave the door locked, seeing that I was coming in?"

The guards exchanged hesitant stares. One of them, a third-level sentry that went by Chartreuse, slowly approached her with a look worn only by those waiting for their place on the hanging scaffold. She had to wonder what kind of director HQ was to their personnel in order to instill such a palpable fear in the guards.

"Th-they're doing something in there, Director." The guard glanced worriedly at the closed door, which was doing nothing to muffle the screams coming from the room. "One of us heard them say that they were crashing, that the Key…it sounds  _horrible_."

She didn't need to hear anything else. "Whoever's guarding the other side, open up immediately. This is One, and I need to have a word with my Medics now."

The guard's voice was barely audible over the noise from the room (which sounded a lot like the surgery machines running at unsafe levels helter-skelter), but she recognized that it belonged to Auburn.

"Everything's fine, Miss One," he yelled through the door. "It's going all according to plan."

"They're  _dying_ , you moron," Slate's voice could be heard at a lower tone, slightly strained and stifled, like he was being held back. "Let me go; she needs to stop this."

"Twelve said not to, even if I had to chain you to the wall cabinets. He said they were just fine. See?"

"His skin's  _gray_ ; he's not fine. Goddammit, Auburn!  _You can't keep me away from him!"_

The Director pressed her hands to her mouth, breathing deeply through her nose and trying to stay calm even as her legs threatened to give out from under her. They couldn't die; she couldn't lose them, not  _them_. Her voice was remarkably steady as she called through the door, "Auburn, please listen to Slate and open up. They are definitely nowhere near alright, from the sounds of it. Whatever they tried, it's not worth it."

"They all decided to try this for the Key, even when he didn't think he was worth it himself," he argued. "They said to leave it all to them."

There was a short pause that stretched into an eternity between the three of them. "I trust them…I  _trust_  Twelve. Don't you, Slate?"

She heard Slate give a low groan, and the sounds of their struggle died underneath the steady roar of screams. "Shit…if you die on me, Twelve, I swear I'll kill you."

Auburn chuckled softly. "He's smiling at you. I think that's a promise, then."

"Damn you too, Twelve."

"That's all very nice and well," the Director called, rapping her knuckles against the wooden door impatiently, "but I have not agreed to anything and  _demand_  to be let in. Slate, Auburn,  _open up this instant_!"

"Sorry, One. We can't risk it; they have the virus, several live currents, and a cocktail of drugs running through them right now, and it's kinda dangerous in here at the moment-"

Auburn's voice was drowned out by a crescendo of shrieks, a horrifying, almighty scream that cut out just as suddenly as it had begun, and then a new, fresh voice cut through the static thrum of the machines, clear and rich like she was standing in the same room with it.

She couldn't think for a moment; the memory of a beloved smile beaming against a backdrop of brilliant whitgold grass almost seared itself into her burning eyes. _"Brow-by?"_

"What in the Four Blues is going on in that room?"

Chief Prussian was at her side, sounding actually  _unnerved_  for once, but nothing could overwrite the imprint of Duparis' voice in her mind, not even the panic that followed once Franky and Usopp arrived. The looks of horror on their faces as they realized that Sanji was also inside the deafening room didn't even register; all she could think about was how much she wanted to hear that voice again.

The Director got her wish.

 _"Get him the hell out of there,"_  Franky hollered, grabbing the nearest guard like he planned to use him to break the door down, while Usopp just looked ready to break down at the sounds of Sanji's screams. She heard Slate yelling back a hotly worded response that  _no_ , they couldn't "while the entire group involved in this harebrained scheme are still dying and re-dying like their heart rates are on a goddamned rollercoaster." She heard Auburn begging him to calm down and for Franky to stop banging on the door, and somewhere in that chaos she felt the change in the air coming.

She heard a resonant voice from within the room, as still as a murmur but as powerful as a roar.

**_"Be still."_ **

* * *

Sanji was almost afraid to move from where he lay among the smoking remains of the hospital bed, feeling the aches and wounds he had amassed over the past few days echoing in his trembling body. It was that risk of his pain flaring up that kept him flat on his back, breathing languidly and weak underneath the oxygen mask.

He frowned; this wasn't the pain he had become used to. Where was the crushing weight on his chest and lungs, the cramps and aches that gnawed away at his stomach like that damned hungry parasite? This kind of pain—the short, panting breaths and almost-electrifying tremors that shuddered through his entire frame—was not the result of his injuries. In fact, those were gone, mostly healed over in messy scars and pale bruises across his skin and under the bandages wound tightly around him.

"…it worked," Sanji muttered, letting the worn white cloth fall away from his fingertips as he freed his left hand from its wrappings. "I can't believe it. Two, everyone, it actually-"

He stumbled to a halt on legs stiff from lack of use and stared at the scene before his feet, speechless. His heart sank like a stone in water, and he dropped to his knees with a dry sob, scrambling to find a pulse on Two's wrist and pleading with everything he could think of that she wasn't dead. He found the other Medics in the exact same condition, pale and motionless but still breathing; it was probable that it held true for the rest of the room's occupants, but he didn't stop until he was certain that everyone was alive, if not well.

It was when he found the bodies outside the room that he knew something was wrong.

"Usopp," he whispered, letting go of his wrist in favor of hugging him to his chest; he was awash in relief at finding his friends alive but couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, this was also his fault. "What happened here?"

"Poor, sniveling little waif…do the consequences of your choices weigh on you that much?"

Sanji thought he didn't have anything in him left to argue with the man, which was just as well. He didn't even know who had spoken to him from among the disarray of bodies on the floor.

"There's no one sniveling and crying in this room, unless you're referring to yourself." Oh. It looked like he  _did_  have it in him after all.

He glanced over his shoulder with a brooding frown on his lips, which seemed to irritate the man more than his sarcastic comment. The man shook his head and gestured across the hall and towards the silent surgery room behind them. "I'll overlook that insolent tongue once, seeing as you cannot help it. But there is no escaping what you did: these people were hurt because of you."

Sanji looked back down at Usopp's quiet frown and Franky's unconscious form a few feet away from them, and he realized the man was right. "It was too dangerous, wasn't it? How can I say I would ever be worth all of this?"

The man paused. "There, there. Who's to say you could help it, after all? Perhaps you really weren't worth it, if all you can do is cry about it."

His shoulders shuddered as he swallowed down tears, and he heard the man take a few steps to the left, just out of his field of vision. He noted offhandedly that he was wearing a pressed uniform and carried a weapon that seemed just out of place on this island. It was starting to bother him more than the crushing guilt he felt. "Who are you?"

The older man gave a chuckle that was so dry and lifeless he thought it sounded almost mechanical. "Don't concern yourself with that; I promise you that all of this—the pain and suffering you must be feeling—will all go away very soon."

The alarms went off in his head only a split second  _after_  he had reacted; the next moments went off in heartbeats, counted one by one as he leapt out of the way of the sword's path with Usopp and the Director in his grasp. He whirled around and glared at the man in the dark blue uniform, who simply shook his arm out and leveled his blade at them coolly.

"What the absolute hell?" Sanji growled, keeping the Director tucked safely in the crook of his arm and away from that sword. He hadn't imagined it; this man was actually trying to kill her. "Wait…I know your voice. You're the bastard who shot me two nights ago!"

"Inconveniently perceptive, aren't you?" He raised his brow at Sanji but looked otherwise unimpressed. "That would be Chief Prussian to you, little waif. Put the subject down and you'll have a kind death, I promise."

Sanji lowered both Usopp and the Director to the ground, eyes wide and mouth trembling with every breath. Chief Prussian's lip curled back into a sneer, and then he lunged silently across the floor, blade poised for the kill.

He met the sword halfway, blocking its path with a kick that made the older man's arms tremble from the aftershock.

"I don't make deals with bastards who would harm a woman," he muttered, dredging up enough force to make the Chief stagger back with a furious grunt.

The man attacked with renewed energy, striking blow after blow that Sanji countered with an ease he hadn't expected. Maybe it was that nervous energy thrumming through his body, but he found that he wasn't even tired from suddenly being forced to fight after being bedridden and near comatose.

"That is no woman," Chief Prussian spat, "and this is no deal, waif. I have nothing against you, but as long as she is around to spare your life, I cannot complete my orders to kill you."

"I hate to break it to you, but that was what you tried and failed to do with the gun earlier." Sanji  _tsk_ -ed lightly and sent the mentioned weapon rattling across the floor and out of the man's reach. "You won't get a second chance to do that, either. To  _anyone_."

Chief Prussian retreated a few steps, but Sanji didn't let up his barrage of kicks; he'd had enough of everyone trying to kill him on HQ's orders, on their own volition, and for the unfathomable reason that they just  _felt_  like it. "Leave this place  _now_."

The Chief staggered back, panting and red-faced.

"You…what a little fool you are, getting cocky because someone took pity on you and gave you your life and body back." A wicked gleam of a smile shone in his black eyes, and he loosened his grip on the sword's hilt. "It's almost enough to make me hesitate…but not quite."

The sword cut through the air with an imperceptible whistle, slicing into his leg like a hot knife through butter. Sanji fell to the ground with a choked scream, near oblivious to everything but the brilliant, striking pain in his thigh.

"Enjoy a little taste of Duparis' fate; I apologize that I could not bring the full Théatre of Blades, but I promise it's every bit as painful and lasting as that scratch I just gave you. You should feel honored."

Sanji wanted to laugh. A scratch? It was beyond him how his leg was even attached to him anymore. "…fuck you, bastard."

"Eloquent, aren't you?" He slid the sword back into its sheath and turned around with a decided finality. "I have no idea what subject 4538A3 saw in you, to have turned himself in to protect such a loathsome little imp."

"Th-Three?"

"Of course you didn't know, did you? The fool passed himself off as you like he would actually stand a chance. Granted, it was enough of a distraction that no one on Geone realized that you were still here on the Base, so perhaps he did accomplish his goal of saving your pathetic hide...not that it does him any good now."

His cold gaze settled on the Director's prone figure. "Now, for 1E4592-"

The Chief stumbled and only just managed to keep his balance; he looked down to find Sanji's hand wrapped tightly around his ankle.

"I said I don't have time to spare on you!" He brought his boot down heavily on Sanji's head and kicked him away. "Get off me!"

Sanji could barely remember what happened next; between all the blows to the head and the shooting pain in his leg, he was almost giddy with delirium.

"Make me," he said around a mouthful of blood, waiting for the right opportunity to approach him; as soon as the Chief was within range he drew up enough saliva to spit across his shoes. It wasn't his face, unfortunately, but he had to make due with what he was given. That earned him a good kick to his jaw, hard enough to make his head spin. "…ffffucking shitty shit bastard…"

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" the Chief snarled, reaching for the rapier again. "Fine, I can put you out of your misery first, if that's what you want, waif."

He barreled into the man before he had a chance to draw his weapon, and they both tumbled back out into the hall with a painful thud and a tangle of limbs. Sanji struggled to his hands and knees slowly, feeling the slow, aching tightness in his chest that warned him he was already reaching his limit. The old gunshot wound, freshly healed and more persistent than he had expected, was throbbing horribly under the bandages wrapped taut across his chest. He knew he had to make his gamble now.

With a hard shove and a well-placed kick, he took off down the hall, placing his bets on the chance that Chief Prussian would go after him instead of the defenseless Director. He just hoped it would be enough to draw his attention away from everyone else, at least for now.  _Plan, plan, I need ideas, and quick!_

It turned out a lot easier to hide from a man on a murderous rampage in a base he had only a vague working knowledge of, or so it seemed.  _He's only following orders strictly_ , he realized, watching the Chief curse and search the darkened corridors furiously.  _He's not even remotely interested in attacking anyone but me and the Director._

There was a low trilling noise, the soft tone of a Den Den Mushi, and then the Chief pulled a little handheld transponder from his pocket before answering. "Prussian, Base AAGE. I lost him, HQ."

HQ's soft, impassive voice sounded from the receiver.

_"Forget the brat, we won't need him after all. In fact, we won't need AAGE either, or any of the other failed 'Keys' either. Return to Geone and report for a debriefing immediately."_

"And 1E4592?"

_"Leave her for now; there may be use for her yet. I am more intrigued by the uses of numbers Three and Five, on the larger scale. They have been transferred to high security in Geone's central district; no one would be fool enough to even try."_

Sanji rubbed his jaw tenderly and peered around the corner, narrowing his eyes at the exchange. Chief Prussian turned sharply and headed for what he assumed was the exit; the base had several passageways that led to the river that cut through the island's bedrock, but it was hard to tell where they were when every single door looked the same to him. Assured that the Chief wouldn't harm his friends for the time being, he considered the conversation he had just overheard.

 _I would have to be an idiot to not realize that HQ was planning for me to eavesdrop on them._  What did they want, though? Were they expecting Sanji to follow the Chief to Geone to attempt to break Three and Five out?  _If that's true, then HQ's placed a lot of faith on that possibility._

He looked back at the empty corridor, thinking of his friends and everyone else he had hurt because he had needed protection…because he had needed help. How could he face them again, knowing what kind of trouble he had brought to them and this place?  _And Three and Five…_  He clenched his jaw and immediately regretted it (the pain was  _really_  bad). Regardless, he crept stealthily down the hall after the older man, clinging to the shadows on the walls and doing his best to muffle his footfalls. His leg ached terribly, but there was something that outweighed the pain on his mind.

_Usopp…Franky…everyone, I'll be back soon, so wait for me please. This thing with HQ ends tonight, I promise. I won't let them have Three and Five, no matter what I have to do._

Sanji found that he was able to walk a little easier after that.


	23. Strange Sympathies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While they don't exactly find what they were looking for, Sanji and Nami stumble across other encounters that may prove to be just what they needed instead.

The Forests of Staithe Wharf were surprisingly devoid of all wildlife and noise; in Nami's opinion it was more akin to walking through a cemetery than through the woods. They were dark, strange, and cold like the ocean's furthest depths, and she couldn't shake the feeling that someone (or some _thing)_ was watching them from just beyond the twisting, gnarled trees.

She was so preoccupied by the nervous hammering in her chest and her crawling, jittery nerves that she kept walking into Sardoc, who looked increasingly annoyed with her after every bump and jostle.

He glared at her while she glanced around the clearing with wide and fearful eyes. "What's with you?"

"This place is awful," she whimpered from underneath her helmet, which kept slipping down over her eyes and did nothing for her anxiety. "Are we there yet? Is there like a nice footpath that avoids the thickets and brambles? Who in their right mind even puts a hospital in the middle of the woods?"

Sardoc looked out at the miles of forest ahead, reaching down to lift the great horned helmet from her head. Something like a smile played on his face, or she thought it did, or maybe she was really having trouble seeing under that helmet. "The Directors would, kiddo.  It was a...gift for someone who really needed it. At least, that's the intent I got from what they said."

Nami frowned and donned her helmet again, mindful to keep it above her brow with the heel of her palm. "You met them? Sardoc, what exactly are you doing here on Staithe?"

"I'm not exactly comfortable explaining that in detail," he admitted with a shrug, pressing onward and forcing her to follow behind (albeit at a timid pace), "but I'd kept myself pretty busy over the years, and as is the case on this island, often that coincided with the work they needed done. After...afterwards, HQ just sort of kept me around. You could say I came included with the Project."

"What kind of work?" she asked, slowing down to pick her way through a rough patch of brambles and thorns beneath two enormous pines. "Sorry for asking so many questions, but the last 'work' you did here involved blowing up a building and possibly starting a small pirate war on the harbor."

Sardoc grinned reluctantly. "That's completely unrelated, honestly. In my spare time, I'm a revolutionary for hire…among other things, of course. Basically I raise up the spirit of anarchy and chaos among the malcontents of the world, with a side of destruction as needed, according to my employers' specifications."

"Like helping people topple the government?"

He looked almost ashamed as he continued to speak, tugging at a loose thread on his glove as though to keep his hands occupied with something. "Don't confuse what I do for the R.A.; it's a government-endorsed way of drawing out troublemakers and potential problems before they can really get started."

Nami glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, trying not to get caught staring outright. "You don't have to worry about being judged; I know what it's like to sell yourself to those kinds of people."

She touched her left shoulder briefly, picturing her reshaped tattoo on the scarred, blotched skin underneath the heavy uniform she wore. "Everyone has their reasons for their actions. They aren't always good things, but I figure that a good reason has to count for  _something_."

"You think so…" he murmured, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "If you're angling to ask me what my reasons are, let me save you the troube: I'm in it for the pay. I contract with the highest bidder and leave at the slightest hint of a better opportunity somewhere else."

Nami huffed indignantly. "I thought we were finally getting somewhere with you, idiot."

"If you think there's a worthwhile human being under all of this mess then you're wrong," Sardoc laughed, pressing a hand to his chest and wincing slightly. He gave a strained cough and cleared his throat roughly. "I'm just as nasty on the inside, too."

She frowned at the sallow look of his skin and the flush of his cheeks. If anything, she was sure that this trek through the woods had only worsened his condition, and she wondered if it would have been better for the both of them to wait for _Sunny_ and _Siet_ to arrive in the harbor instead.

"Hey, are you okay?" she said, reaching out to touch his arm uncertainly. "Maybe we shou-"

He whirled around and pushed her out of the way silently, catching the first attacker head on. Another one caught him off guard from behind but Nami was ready this time. She threw her weight into her weapon and shoved the man away from Sardoc, quickly assembling the segments into its singular staff form and readied herself for a fight.

They had been spotted.

The Border Guard had the advantage of numbers on their side, but there was something about the first rush of adrenaline, that fight-or-flight response, that had given them the upper hand. Even she was surprised when the guards were forced to retreat a few feet; fighting in such close quarters against an ambush like this, every inch was a gain in their favor. Besides, she had something more important than her life to fight for here.  _I'm fighting for them,_  she thought fiercely, sending another pair of attackers sprawling on the ground.

"How're you holding up?" Nami called to Sardoc over the frenzied rush of the fight, sparing him a single glance before bracing herself for her next opponent.

"…could keep this up all day," he shrugged, staggering back a few steps and turning his back on one of the attackers thoughtlessly. "W-why do you-?"

The guard stopped as Sardoc doubled over, a hand clamped over his mouth.

"…Sardoc?"

Nami froze.

She remembered how he looked: his face was ashen and peaked, and he clenched his eyes shut furiously, shaking violently with every hacking breath he struggled to take. There was blood dripping between his fingers, dark and frothy, and he had stopped responding to everything around him, even though Nami had screamed his name over and over again until her throat was raw and hoarse.

The Border Guard didn't even have to say anything as they closed in on her, not that she would have noticed anyway. She dropped the Perfect Clima-tact without a word of protest, her eyes fixed on Sardoc's rigid figure on the forest floor, trembling and hunched over in pain. There really was no other choice she would have made.

They slammed her into the ground with enough force to leave her rattled and bruised, though she didn't say anything to complain about the treatment she was given. She hardly felt it, really.

What she did feel was genuine terror as she realized what was happening to him.

"He's dying…" she choked, grunting when the handcuffs locked into place around her wrists, heavy and menacing. They ignored her and moved on to Sardoc, who was barely able to stay upright with the convulsive coughing fit wracking his body. He gave no sign that he was even aware of their presence or conscious of his predicament anymore.

 _He's dying..._  Nami raised her voice, outraged when she saw them placing the same handcuffs on his wrists as well. "He's seizing up…don't restrain him, it'll only make things worse!"

Her outburst was cut short when they forced a wadded rag into her mouth and hauled her up onto her knees roughly, forcing her head back so that she was looking plaintively up at their leering faces. The movement made her uniform shift and sent the two little vials, or what was left of them, shattering to the ground. There were slivers of glass all over her breast pocket, but she didn't think about anything but the fact that she had destroyed the cure that Chopper had worked so hard on for Sanji. She had truly failed.

The leader of the group was speaking into a snail transponder and looking down indifferently at Sardoc's motionless body, reacting with only the slightest of frowns as he listened to the report given to him by one of his men.

"Tell HQ we've found our Zero. He's deteriorated more rapidly than we thought."

He glanced dismissively at Nami, who shot him the filthiest glare she could muster from behind her gag despite feeling anything but despair at the plight she found herself in. "The girl, we'll dump into the harbor; she looks to be too much of a pain for what she's worth."

She felt faint and dizzy with fear, but before the prospect of death by water could properly fill her with dread, HQ's familiar voice sounded through the transponder, light and triumphant in the deadened forest air.

"You can report to me yourself, Ivory," she chuckled lowly, "as soon as you bring me that girl. Do not think to question me; I believe I have unfinished business with our…Miss Nami."

* * *

Sanji cursed under his breath as he climbed over yet another pile of rock in the caverns under the island; was there no end to the rubble and debris blocking these tunnels? On top of slowing him down, it was using up energy that he would rather have saved for a confrontation he might actually need it for, and it served nothing else but to irritate the pain in his leg.

The wound was an intriguing mystery, to be honest; within the minute his pain had subsided, and he had found himself shocked when he realized it wasn't even bleeding. The gash in his thigh was completely gone when he slipped out of his pants to treat it, even though he could feel the wound beneath his skin, sharp and throbbing along the torn edges.

_Am I imagining it? Was it a dream?_

No, that wasn't it. Sanji knew he had felt the sword cut through his leg; he had seen the path it cut through his muscle and flesh. The answer to his phantom pain had to lie in that sword that the Chief had wielded against him. Whatever it was, cursed or enchanted (heck, he didn't care if it was made out of magical sea fairy laughter), he had to find out how to reverse the effects of its cut on his leg. It was more than a painful hindrance; it made him vulnerable at his most important level out here: his ability to fight.

"That shitty bastard Prussian," he muttered, stumbling over his own feet when the pain flared up again. "Where the hell did he go?"

That was his other distressing dilemma; he had lost sight of the Chief in this labyrinth of an underground tunnel system. "What the hell is even going on with this place? …shit, I swear these tunnels keep moving around every time I-"

He caught himself and stopped, startled. A rueful grin spread across his face, and he brushed at his eyes casually even though there was no one around to see him.

"Tch…never thought I'd live to see the day when I started talking like the Mosshead," he chuckled hoarsely, picking a path at random and starting down the tunnel without really paying attention to where he was going. "Figures it would be the day that I died continuously. He'd have a laugh, probably."

He touched the black bandana tucked into his pocket and wondered when he would get the chance to return it to him. Would he, though? He had felt such a tremendous relief at finding out that Usopp and Franky were still alive, but he hadn't considered what he would do if the same held true for the rest of his friends. They could have survived too; neither Usopp nor Franky had mentioned anything about the fate of the two ships or their comrades.  _I don't know anything yet but here I am already imagining what it'll be like to see them again…_

"I guess I can still hope," he smiled, jumping over a narrow gap in the bedrock lightly enough to be able to withstand the pain in his leg, "and hop, too. Who would have known?"

Yes, who would have known? He was so lost in the sheer lightness and hopefulness of his thoughts that he forgot to pay attention to his surroundings. It was exactly the perfect moment for reality to come crashing down hard, or rather, for him to crash straight into it.

 _Crack_.

Sanji was seeing stars and hearing the rush of his own blood as it poured from his nose. Oh  _God_ , his poor, probably-broken nose. "Shit, that hurt…"

_"Shit? What is shit?"_

He sat up with a start. " _Guppy_?"

_"Guppy is shit?"_

Sanji clambered to his feet just as Guppy collided solidly with him, sending the pair crashing hard on the cold, rocky floor of the tunnel.  _"Sambi!"_

Once he caught his breath, Sanji grinned warmly down at the sea beast nuzzling his chest. "It's…Sanji. What are you doing all the way down here, Guppy?"

Guppy shook her head fervently, tossing back her wild seaweed green tendrils back over her shoulder. She scrambled away from him and to the edge of the narrow pathway, staring deep into the dark water as though she was expecting something to come out of it.

 _"Big swimmers in there,"_  she huffed, glaring intensely at the still, oily waters beneath them.  _"They are too big, Sanji. They scared the Twits."_

"Hold on a sec," Sanji said, startled by the angry flick and twist of her tail near his feet. "What are the big swimmers? I thought this place had no exits out into the sea...Guppy, where did these things come from?"

She growled and motioned for him to come over to the edge of the path, gesturing at the space beside her impatiently until he joined her and took the spot she was offering. There was an eerie, almost imperceptible ripple along the surface of the water, that he heard, rather than saw.  _"They came first, they look like us, and they do not play nice. And they are too big."_

Sanji peered into the waters with her, furrowing his brow as he realized what she was saying. There were more of them. Guppy and her siblings weren't the only ones of their kind; they had just confirmed that there were more sea beasts in existence. His throat was dry and his head was reeling from this newfound information. "Are Bubbles and Fry okay?"

_"They are just babies, so they are hiding over there."_

She pointed over to the little cranny in the wall behind her, and Sanji crawled across the ground painfully to join them in the cramped space, reaching out to stroke the Twits' heads gently. "Hey, Bubbles…it's okay, I'm here now. You don't have to be scared anymore."

Bubbles gave a soft, babbling murmur that sounded like a brook nestled in the woods, and he rested his head against her cool, slimy side, feeling the twitch and tremor of her gelatinous flesh beneath his hands. He marveled at how unique and fantastic each of them were, from Guppy's sleek, deadly frame, to Fry's powerful, stocky body and reptilian heads, to Bubbles thick, translucent tentacles and vibrant, luminescent contours.  _It's true that there are some bizarre creatures out there in the four Blues and on the Line, but somehow I fell straight for these little shits._

Sanji lifted his head briefly. "Fry? How are you doing?"

Fry turned his heads away and snuffled lowly, stretching his limbs out like he wasn't interested in him, but his tail wrapped itself around his ankle in a telltale manner, giving away how much he actually wanted Sanji's comfort. Sanji just smiled knowingly and rubbed his scaldingly warm, scaly tail without a word, letting Fry's pleased growl speak for him.

He was so glad to find them here, safe and sound…if a little frightened. When he had set them free from the base, he hadn't considered how they were supposed to look after themselves on their own. It had been bothering him at the edge of his mind, beneath all of the pain and grief he had dealt with since he woke up from his trauma-induced coma.  _Looking back on it, this was a stupid move on its own; I couldn't have expected them to know how to survive outside the base alone. That place is all they've ever known, after all._

He was resolved to do things right this time. "Come on, we should get you out of here. Guppy?"

Guppy perked up at the mention of her name and the prospect of having Sanji's attention again.

 _"The big swimmers won't let me,"_  she pouted, digging her claws into the rock beneath her hands.  _"I have to protect the Twits, I have to protect Sandy."_

"It's Sanji," he reminded her, rubbing her head tenderly. "And don't worry about protecting me; that's my job as the adult. Come on, we'll find another way out of here."

It took quite a bit of coaxing and reassuring to get the three baby sea beasts out from the crevice, but Sanji managed to get all of them moving down the tunnel and away from the water's edge. He was immensely curious about the existence of the "big swimmers", which he assumed were adult sea beasts, but while he was also immensely stupid he was not so much of an idiot as to place himself in danger by searching the pitch black waters for them, especially in a dark cavern like this one. Besides, if even the brash Guppy was daunted by them, then he didn't want to risk setting off the wrath of what he was sure were enormous, fully grown sea creatures, considering the size of Guppy and her baby siblings.

His own curiosities would have to wait; he had too much else at stake right now, anyway. Sanji didn't even know how long Three and Five had, or where in Geone he was supposed to begin to look for them. He remembered the tall, ancient architecture and sprawling buildings of the City and knew that they could be in any of hundreds of places on the Inner Island.  _HQ had better not hurt them if they know what's good for them. Compared to what I'll do, they may just find these "big swimmers" a better fate than me._

* * *

Nami sat in the darkness of the infirmary with her head in her hands, feeling the weight of the past hours on her shoulders and mind heavily. Her eyes ached with exhaustion, and she knew that she would be feeling the horrible black bruises across her ribs and back in the morning, but right now all she felt was this overwhelming sensation of being drained.

It was like defeat, only she couldn't let herself admit something as shameful as that. Everyone else had fought so hard to protect their friends and reach Sanji, and she had ruined every chance they had at saving him.  _I couldn't reach him, I couldn't get him the cure that Chopper gave his all towards, and I couldn't do anything to help Sardoc either._

There was nothing she could have done for him at that moment; the sight of his motionless body on the frost-covered ground was stamped in her memory permanently. She hadn't imagined how terrifying it was to watch someone suffer like that in such an awful, agonizing way. Of course, she had once been on the other side of that, but even then she had known that she could trust her friends to come through for her and save her. This time, all she had been able to do was watch again.  _Just like with Sanji._

He had the same illness. HQ's personnel in this base (she didn't know anything but the fact that they were somewhere on Geone, the Third City on the Inner Lake) detailed it very well in the frantic snatches of conversation that she caught while they worked to save him. High fever, loss of consciousness, and what they described as localized constrictions involving some group of organs or something. The infection had worsened more than they had expected and had, according to what they were saying, furthered the damage to his body up to this point. With the complication of internal hemorrhaging, they couldn't determine if he would even survive another attack.

That, however, was something she was suspicious about.

She glanced wearily at the bed she was seated next to, where Sardoc lay asleep under the pale covers, his back to her and breathing deeply and steadily with the aid of the oxygen mask over his face. They had known just what to do to stabilize his condition, almost too perfectly, and she was suspicious of the way they even had the right blood type prepared for him in case he needed a transfusion. They knew him by name.

 _They've had him in here before,_  she suspected, remembering the neat black numbers on his wristband _(0N1907)_ and the dark bruises on his arms from what she guessed were old IV entry points. She wouldn't be surprised if her assumptions were correct; the location of those marks couldn't just be random.  _He wouldn't look this bad if healing him was their ultimate goal._

She felt the bed shift and, her thoughts interrupted, she moved a little closer to the bedside as Sardoc gave a low moan and rolled over to face her, a look of confusion on his face.

"You…?" He blinked slowly, reaching up to pull the mask away from his mouth. "What happened?"

"Don't take it off," Nami said a little more brusquely than she meant to. She bit her lip and gestured at the IV bag and the various apparatus surrounding the bed. "I...I was hoping you could give _me_ some answers. No one's told me anything but 'this will help'. The doctors, I mean."

"They always say that," he grumbled weakly, but he didn't try to remove the mask anymore. He raised his eyebrow at her, eyes narrowed like he was trying to scrutinize her. "You didn't run."

Nami shook her head. "Honestly, is that all you can think about? How was I supposed to run? You almost _died_ out there."

He closed his eyes and coughed harshly, enough that it looked like it physically hurt him. "I would have. You're really stupid."

"That's not true," she argued listlessly, know that no matter what she said, he would just keep denying it anyway. He didn't look like he had the energy for a pointless exchange like that, anyway.

She could see the faintest blue lines of the veins along his temples and framing his eyes and was taken aback by how different his face looked against the stark white pillows. Had he always been this sick? It was hard to believe that he had been strong enough to take on several of their crew at once before being captured.

He'd fallen asleep, she noted, reaching across to lower the setting on the overhead light. She didn't want to jostle him, not now when the pain had faded from his face. Instead, she slipped her fingers under his wristband, turning it carefully towards her to read over it again. _0N1907_. Beneath that, there was another series of numbers, letters, and lines that appeared to be a code, followed by the names of doctors and clearance levels she assumed had something to do with the virus and the Project. But what caught her attention was the name just beyond all that, when she kept turning it in her fingers. A tiny, printed name right next to 0N1907, not important enough to even complete but still there.

_N-O-R-M-A-N-D_

Nami idly let her hands return back to her lap, twisting her own bands (handcuffs) as she thought back to what he'd said. "You didn't run either. I couldn't have stopped you from doing that even if I tried, but you came willingly anyway. That was stupid, too."

"...true enough, kiddo." His eyes had fluttered open, and he looked a little more alert now, didn't he? She wondered if he would drift off again if she gave him the chance; more rest would be a kindness at this point (it certainly couldn't do any harm). But he was up on one elbow, trembling with the effort and with no visible intent on lying back down. "I'm as clever as you are, which could mean many things. Don't stick your tongue out at me; respect your elders and shit."

"Crockety old man," she snarked, laughing.

"Pesky little brat," he retorted easily, finally giving up and resting his head back on the pillow. "Are you alright?" 

His eyes were still on her, and somehow she knew that he was taking stock, the way his gaze flitted from bruise to bruise across her wan smile. But that's all they were, really, ugly bruises that would go away with time. 

"I don't know," she shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear self consciously. She had to look a mess, she knew, after getting chased all over Staithe by angry militant groups and angrier water monsters. She hadn't slept in a long time. And one side of her face felt tender and slightly swollen from when she'd been forced to the ground by her captors. But she was still up, still able. "I'm not the one lying on their death bed."

"Death bed?" he winced, half laughing and half wheezing when even that proved too much of a strain. "Ugh, _owwwww_. I-isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?"

"You couldn't manage to keep a laugh going two seconds. That comment was within my rights to make."

"Cruel as she is kind," Sardoc sighed, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "It appears that I'm in good company, if it's to be my deathbed. Again, why didn't you run?"

Nami groaned. "Oh, this again. Are you always a one-track record, or is this a side effect of nearly dying?"

"No, I..." He dragged his hands over his face, voice pained and slightly muffled. "I'm just upset that...I'm sorry. You were caught, and it may just be completely my fault, and this is the second farthest scenario I had in my mind when I came with you. When I call you stupid, I'm calling myself stupid and trying to apologize for...screwing everything up...for you. I'm sorry. You should have run, or I should have, earlier, and it's my fault you'd even have to, and I'm sorry."

"Alright, there's enough of that." Nami rolled her eyes and pointed seriously at him. "You, shut up. What's done is done and there's no way I'm blaming you for something you had absolutely no control over. If anything, I wouldn't have made it as far as I did if you hadn't been around. We're both alive, aren't we?"

"I know how much reaching your friends meant to you."

Oh. Nami's voice caught in her throat, and she had to drop her gaze away before she lost her composure. It did...it mattered so much but..."Honestly, it wouldn't make a difference even if I'd made it."

 _If any of them are even still alive out there anymore._ The vial was gone, and Sanji's cure with it. Now _that_ she could blame on herself.  She picked at the torn threads of her shirt, wondering if she'd gotten all the glass out yet, and if she could make it out of this without crying in front of Sardoc. "Um...thanks for worrying about me, by the way. I appreciate it."

"Still, if I could get you out-"

"Just leave it," she said. "You should try to rest. Please."

He hummed under his breath and frowned, but thankfully he didn't press her. "I'm...too tired to sleep, if that makes sense."

"Trust me, I'm feeling it too. Maybe I could shut off the lights completely?"

He muttered something that might have been a sleep-heavy _please_  before the distant sound of many, _many_ doors being opened startled them both, coming out of nowhere and approaching them fast. A burst of loud, expletive-filled grumbling joined the noise, progressively getting closer and more curse dependent over time. Nami glanced at Sardoc, who shrugged very helpfully and offered, "someone's at the door", also helpfully.

Glaring and fuming, she faced the door with dread pounding in her heart, expecting at best yet another one of those angry guards and at worst, HQ herself.

She was instead frozen in shock when someone unexpected opened the door, framed by the brilliant white light of the hallway and looking every bit like an apparition.

It was someone she had almost given up hope on, she was ashamed to admit to herself. "You…?"

Sanji stood tall and distinct in the doorway of the infirmary, dressed in clothes that he had seemingly picked up in a rush (it was nowhere near as formal and deliberated as she had grown accustomed to seeing on him). His hair was mussed and hanging in filthy strands across his face, and the line of his jaw was splotchy with red and purple bruises, like he had just walked out of a fistfight. He was as motionless and silent as a statue.

For several long, surreal minutes, he stared at her with wide blue eyes that were intensely bright and bewitching. She was reminded of the first night on the docks when she couldn't imagine seeing a truer blue than his eyes in the firelight.

He blinked.

"Goddamnit, I'm hallucinating again," he groaned as he stomped out the door, leaving Nami and Sardoc to stare in bewilderment after him.

That…stupid…

 _"Idiot!"_  Nami screamed, not caring if HQ and all of her people on this forsaken island heard her. She threw the first thing that she could get her hands on, which happened to be Sardoc's IV stand.

It was impressive how quickly Sardoc reacted in order to unclip the bag from the pole before Nami sent it flying at Sanji's head.

Sanji hit the ground with a strangled yelp, the IV stand bouncing beautifully off his skull with a resounding thud before crashing into the wall on the other side of the corridor. Nami, in her haste to go haul the moron off the floor, jumped to her feet and unfortunately forgot all about the fact that she was still handcuffed to Sardoc's bed. She collapsed on the floor in an unceremonious heap, her arm locked in a twisted, painful position against the bed railing.

Sardoc glanced back and forth between the pair, looking far more amused than he had any right to be.

"I take it that this is the infamous Sanji I keep hearing about," he said simply, receiving a pair of pathetic groans from the cold hospital floor tiles. He smirked down at Nami, who gave him a woeful glare and tried to untangle her arm from the agonizing position it had been forced into. "Now, this one…this one's a  _real_  keeper, I'll say."


	24. Dreamy Realism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji is in fact a bit of a dreamer, but even this dire declaration of doom has him worried, and there is something about the man in the mask that feels off. Nami simply tries to hold the peace between these two hotheaded men from North Blue.

It was true that Sanji had a bit of an imagination. He had to in order to believe so fervently in a fairytale like his All Blue dream. But while it was nowhere as fantastic and creative as Usopp's nor as grand and willful as Luffy's, who planned to conquer the greatest dream out on the seas, he did have those moments of whimsy and dreaminess every once in a while. Most of them were childish and silly, like his self-crafted "Mr. Prince" romances and that one stubborn daydream about teaching a cooking class to a group of wide-eyed, fresh-faced pupils on his own restaurant ship.

(He had bought Chopper's silence with cotton candy and enormous mugs of hot chocolate every evening— _every goddamned evening_ —after the little reindeer walked in on him profusely praising his imaginary student _Darlona-chan_ for her heavenly soufflé…among other things. Chopper still giggled quietly every time he received his bribes while Sanji could do nothing but set his snacks down on the desk, fuming.)

As entertaining as those flights of fancy might be (for anyone other than himself), his musings were, on the whole, more ordinary than anyone might expect. He had no big plans for his life other than finding that slice of paradise he imagined the All Blue would be, and just being there to support his own friends' dreams was enough for him.

There was no glory and fame in his musings, no great riches and conquests. The All Blue wasn't for himself, but to share with everyone he cared about. He could think of nothing greater than cooking an exquisite new dish every day for his friends and just reveling in the reality of his dream. Good food and companionship—

He hadn't thought about the simplicity of his earliest childhood wishes in so long that it rattled him to the core when he saw it reflected in the man's gaze. Eyes the color of a northern sea, and Sanji was stopped, transfixed. He felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness and loss, and he was more than certain that it was nothing more than his tired mind playing tricks on him again. After all, there was no home nor family left for him in the north anymore.

Nami was certainly a lovely twist on that old dream, but it wasn't until her marvelous aim and beautiful, angelic voice ( _oh, be still my beating heart!)_ caught him through the heart…and across the head with what appeared to be an IV stand. Ouch.

As he was puzzling through all of those thoughts, both nostalgic and delightful alike, the sounds of footsteps from down the hall somehow reached that part of his mind that wasn't a lovesick, dreamy fool of a man, and he leapt to his feet, eyes wide and reflexes at the ready. He backed into the room as quietly as he could, tripping over his feet when he remembered and went back for the IV stand on the floor. The door closed without a sound long before the first sentry marched past.

He breathed a low sigh in the dark. It hadn't been easy getting into Geone with three sea beasts in tow, and they'd been... _unhappy-_ to put it lightly _-_  at having been left behind in that old bookshop near the docks, but at least they had escaped notice for now. He would worry about getting them out later.

His hand fumbled for the switch near the door, and the lights brightened, making Nami and the man on the bed wince at the sudden change. Nami recovered quickly, and the bewildered look on her face gave way to excitement and what he almost dared to say was relief. "Sanji!"

"Nami," he croaked, his legs suddenly turning to water. The smile on his face was only a shadow of the joy that he felt, but if he allowed himself anything more he knew he would break down and cry again. His friends deserved better than that. "You're alright…"

Sanji couldn't manage more than a step before the pain in his leg flared up, and he only just caught himself against the small cabinet against the wall, hissing a few choice curses under his breath. _Damn that shitty Prussian bastard_.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Nami struggled to her feet and reached out to him, but the handcuffs around her right wrist kept her tethered to the bed. "What happened to you?"

He must have looked more of a mess than he thought because there was a wavering note in her voice, like she was holding back tears. Sanji rubbed his tender jaw with a grin and tried not to wince.

"Ah, does it look that bad? I'm sorry; you deserve better-" his next reaction he really couldn't resist, however "-but _Nami-swan!_ How I have missed your delicate concern for me! You are truly sweeter and more fragrant than a summer rose!"

He threw his arms around her gleefully, feeling something ache deep in his chest, something that had nothing to do with what he'd gone through. A knot of tears settled in his throat when he heard her mutter softly, "God, I even missed your stupid fawning nonsense."

His lip trembled. "…Nami, can I cry on your shoulder a bit?"

Her shoulders shook in his embrace, and then she gave a choked laugh. "You ridiculous man, I'm charging you extra for even asking!"

He knew that he was getting snot and tears all over her collar, but he just couldn't help it. This was something he had wanted to do with Franky, and Usopp, and Luffy and everyone else on the ship; this was something he couldn't afford. They needed him to be strong, and while physically he knew that he would be fine, his emotions were steadily crumbling with each and every time he swallowed them down.

At least with Nami, he felt that much freer with his emotions, if not comfortable. Slowly, his breathing became steadier and he found himself able to pull away (albeit reluctantly) without bursting into tears. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his stolen sweater and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that-"

Nami pulled him into another tight hug. "Shut up, it's okay to cry. I was worried too…we _all_ were."

All of them. So they really were alive after all. Sanji felt like he needed new lungs or something; these ones weren't working properly anymore. "I don't remember how to breathe, Nami."

The man in the hospital bed snorted and began to fiddle with his oxygen mask.

"I have a spare mask if you want it," he offered, earning himself a solid thump over the head and a good helping of Nami's ire.

"Don't you dare mess with that thing, Sardoc." She snapped, glaring at him until he lowered his hands in resignation. "You were almost dead only hours ago, and whatever is in that mask is obviously helping you. Keep it _on_."

"I hate this thing," he groused, lying back on the pillows with a weak cough. "This is giving me really bad memories, and I'm okay now, really." 

She gave him an agitated growl. "I don't know what condition you think you're in, but I know that from where I'm standing, you look pretty awful."

Sanji frowned, noticing the bruises and scratches on their faces and the pallor of their skin. They were haggard, but of the two, Sardoc looked noticeably worse off. "What's wrong with him?"

"Where do I begin?" Nami sighed, sinking down into her chair with a roll of her eyes. "He's rude and irresponsible, has a nasty personality, doesn't have a shred of decency in him, and is nothing more than a shifty, hateful weasel of a person."

Sardoc blinked expectantly, his lips pursed and his eyebrows arched high with amusement. "Oh, don't hold back on my account, please. Tell us how you _really_ feel; I promise I'll only cry a little bit."

"You suck, Sardoc."

"Scathing, I see. I don't know how my delicate sensibilities can take anymore."

Sanji stepped in before it could continue any further. " _Enough_. My Nami-swan is too tender and kind to make a shithead like you cry, but I don't have any problems with it myself. I'd kick your sick, sorry ass in defense of a pretty lady any day!"

"Tch, you sound just like that idiot Duparis and-" Sardoc's eyes widened, and if it were even at all possible, his face blanched a shade whiter, paler than the color of the hospital sheets under the harsh lighting in the room.

He turned away with a sudden heave, coughing horribly into his hand as Nami scrambled to help him sit up. His shoulders shook, racked by his sharp, heavy panting and wheezing breaths. Sanji hesitated at the bedside, concerned but not really sure of what he could do to help. In any case, there was no room to get any closer, and Nami had waved him away with a quiet mutter while she kept Sardoc upright against the headboard. The last thing he wanted was to get in her way.

Sardoc had torn the mask off, leaving it dangling from the overhanging monitor closest to the bed. Sanji took it in his hand and turned it over, feeling the slight mist coming from the mask (and presumably, whatever was keeping him breathing properly). He held it out to Nami, who took it with a grateful smile and urged Sardoc to place it back over his face. "Just slow breaths, okay? At least until your coughing lets up."

Several long minutes staggered by before the worst of the coughing stopped, which by then had subsided just enough that he could fit the oxygen mask over his mouth to inhale the medicated mist. He was left blinking back involuntary tears and seemed to be struggling just to breathe steadily, even as the mask brought some color back into his cheeks.

"…sorry," he rasped weakly, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I'm fine, kid just startled me."

"Just take it easy," Nami said, sitting back on her heels and smoothing out the sheets on the bed nervously. "He didn't mean anything by it. Did you, Sanji?"

"N-no?" Sanji agreed, bewildered by what had happened in the space between his threats and Sardoc's coughing fit. "Except I don't think that's what bothered him about me?"

Nami shushed him. "If he doesn't want to talk about it…"

Sardoc shook his head wearily and fell back against the headboard with a soft groan. He refused to put the straps back into place but didn't take the mask back off again.

"You just reminded me of someone I knew," he chuckled. Sanji could have sworn he had seen that expression in those eyes before. It was like he was meeting someone all over again, but whether these memories were real or not was uncertain. Maybe he was just reminded of someone he knew, too. "That idiot…more trouble than anyone could handle. _God_ , I can't even remember what it felt like to really hate he-"

Nami narrowed her eyes at him. "You mean Duparis, don't you? I knew about the captain, but you never said that you were sick too."

"I wasn't looking for sympathy, so I didn't bring it up," he shrugged. "You know now, right?"

"It's the same virus, isn't it?" Sanji wrapped his arm around his middle, unable to keep himself from hunching over slightly when he remembered the pain that until recently had been a dogged constant in his body. "They told me I was affected by the vaccine, but it's in the water. Or it used to be, I think. The waterways were contaminated, from what I discovered in the underground tunnels. But they had those things in storage at the base, in vials and labeled, too."

"You met the parasites, did you?" Sardoc laughed, looking genuinely amused at the irritated glare on Sanji's face. "Nasty pieces of shit, aren't they? I can't say I would willingly swallow another one, but then again I didn't expect to do it the first time either."

They stared at him, speechless. Sanji swore that he actually heard his jaw drop open, and Nami swayed unsteadily at the side of the bed, catching herself against the chair. "You _what_?"

"It was popular on this island back when Duparis and I…well, _infected_ ourselves. Non-blanks, drinks made with water that was probably, if not definitely, contaminated with those things. You could order one at any old dive down by the docks in Heathers, and sometimes the plaza off Meazzne Court was nothing but an uproar of those crazy bastards taking part in the game. Idiots."

"You're one of the idiots who participated," Sanji reminded him pointedly. "Like that Duparis bastard…hold on, I knew I'd heard it before. There was a vial labeled with that name in the storage before I destroyed it. And that bastard, Chief Prussian, mentioned it when he attacked me earlier!"

Sardoc was frowning quietly, but there was a hint of horror in his expression. "They kept that old vial…? Wait, _Prussian's_ here?"

"Yes, I had the wonderful misfortune of meeting that bastard…it's a pity the blast didn't knock him out." Sanji felt his stomach flip when Nami looked at him questioningly; he shouldn't have brought that up at all. How was he supposed to explain the risky procedure that had left all of his newfound friends at Base AAGE, Franky and Usopp among them, out cold in the wreck that used to be the Medics' surgery room? "He was trying to kill the Director, Ctena, and he said something about Duparis' fate involving the Théatre of Blades. I have no idea what that means, but it sounds painful."

He rubbed his leg as discreetly as he could, biting his lip when the pain flared up beneath his fingertips. Right now, he would have given anything to ask Nami for her chair, but honor (and maybe a little pride) kept him from taking her seat. He would just have to bear it.

Sardoc was kneading his temples, a dark, hard look in his eyes and in the line of his clenched jaw. "There's something about that phrase that's familiar, but I can't pin it down. Damn it…this shitty memory is _shit_."

He could sympathize with that. Sometimes Sanji wondered exactly which of his memories were real and which were imagined. Like this strange feeling of nostalgia and home that he got whenever he looked at Sardoc for too long, and the memory of being on the rolling deck of a ship, watching Staithe Wharf as it loomed before him and that mysterious green-haired navigator. Or that creeping, sinister voice in the back of his head that told him to go to sleep. Come to think of it, that one was probably his voice of reason, he mused as he blinked away a few black spots floating around before his tired vision. He couldn't remember the last decent sleep he'd had in the past week.

" _-Sanji?"_

Nami was clutching his arm like a vice, her forehead wrinkled with worry and fear as he nodded distantly, trying not to show how badly he wanted to collapse right now. "I am yes, I mean okay."

"Hey, sit down for a moment," she said, moving to get out of the way so her chair was free. With the handcuffs around her wrists, it was easier said than done. "You look dead on your feet. I'm surprised you're even up after how bad the virus hit you."

"It's fine, don't worry." Sanji shook his head and felt a wave of dizziness that died down as soon as it had begun; he knew that he had hours at most to ride out the burst of energy he'd gotten from the Medics. "I can sit when I've made sure that everyone's safe and out of this place."

"He's right," Sardoc muttered from the bed, managing to lift his head an inch off the pillow. "If Prussian's here, that means you're in bigger shit than you think. I only remember the feeling that hearing about the Théatre of Blades inspired, and let me tell you, it wasn't good. You need to go, _now_."

Nami nodded grimly, casting a cautious look at Sanji's drawn expression. "…fine, but afterward I am _so_ going to tie you to your bed for a month."

"I can accept that," Sanji smiled blissfully, already lost in a fantasy involving being spoon-fed by an apron-clad Nami and Robin during his forced bedrest. "Sardoc, can you stand?"

The man chuckled reluctantly and shook his head. "It's fine, you two go on ahead. I can't move from this bed."

"What are you saying?" Nami turned her anger on him, leaving Sanji to sigh in relief at being spared for the moment. "You _have_ to come with us."

"You saw how much I'm depending on all this crap just to keep breathing. I couldn't even sit up on my own; all I would do is slow you down."

Nami loomed over his bed with a furious scowl on her pale face, and there was something in her eyes that was too bright and almost tearful. Sanji reached out to her in concern, but she brushed him off and began a furious tirade against Sardoc, who simply stared back calmly with a look Sanji knew he had seen before. It was pure resignation. "You want us to leave you here with these people who won't even treat you properly? Do you seriously expect me to believe that they've kept you for nearly twenty years with no signs of a cure? They're going to end up killing you like this!"

"I knew from the beginning what I was signing up for," he sighed, closing his eyes to her horrified face. "You were right; I didn't have to come back, but I did. I always do, and I always will because I will never stop being a coward."

Sanji felt his heart pound nervously against his ribcage, almost light and fluttery as he clenched his fists at his sides. _"A coward?"_

Sardoc smiled bitterly and looked away. "I can't tell you how many times I stopped taking those meds they prescribed me, telling myself that I wouldn't come back. I promised that I would run as far as I could and find someplace where I could be free. I always backed out at the last second and came running back like a fool."

"…if you want to give up fighting because you think this is too hard, then yeah, I'd say you're a fool," Sanji growled, heaving Sardoc off the bed by the collar of his hospital gown. There was something he didn't like about the defeated, self-hating tone in his voice; it didn't fit in with that sense of familiarity he had known from him. "I'll be the first to abandon you if you give up so easily."

"You think this is easy?" Sardoc shot back, grabbing Sanji's wrist and squeezing hard. It didn't hurt at all, but then again most of his strength must have been sapped at this point. "I'm always in pain, I have no autonomy over my own body, I barely remember who I am and the shitty life I've led, only that it's been very shitty and awful. And that's not even counting what an asshole I am, which on second thought is probably why everything's shit."

"It is if you start throwing yourself pity parties like a goddamned event planner in June! How dare you ask my sweet Nami to leave you behind when she thoughtfully remembered _you_ , a piece of shit, at a time like this!"

"I'm not asking for pity, I'm being goddamned pragmatic! I'd only slow you down, you ass!"

"Pragmatic my shitting ass!"

"Oh, so that's how you want to speak to your elders. Boy, I could be your shitting ass father for all you-!"

Nami shoved them apart with a furious shriek, looking like a true goddess, in that her face was a striking red and filled with a divine fury. _"Shut up, you veritable morons! I don't have the energy to deal with this!"_

She froze and glanced between them with a startled look in her wide eyes. "Whoa…"

"What?" they asked sullenly, still glaring daggers at each other.

"Um, you guys wouldn't happen to..." Nami trailed off with a blithe smile on her mouth and a dismissive chuckle. "Never mind, I don't think you even have last names."

Sardoc narrowed his eyes at Sanji. "Do you know what she's talking about?"

"Not a clue," Sanji whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "but just nod and pretend that you understood. I won't forgive you if you make her unhappy."

"Tch, you're as annoying as that woman, but I know when to stay quiet."

"What was that?" Nami said lightly, hovering over them as they leaned in to whisper to each other.

"N-nothing."

She nodded, appeased for the moment. "I thought so. Now, I know we need to get out of here, but we need a plan first. I know you're strong, Sanji, but there's no way we can rely on that to break through HQ's defenses alone."

"I-"

"You were sick to the point of unconsciousness for days, probably. Don't answer that; I know you won't be honest with me."

She was right, but he knew better than to press his luck any further. Besides, she looked exhausted as well, and from the bruises and scratches on her face, he could tell that her captors had been callous with the way they treated her. And Sardoc was nowhere near ready to be moved at this point, but they didn't have much of a choice. Neither of them wanted to leave him behind.

Sanji glanced at the door. "We could sneak past the guards easily; I have a rough estimate of their patrol times. But I just can't leave without finishing what I came here for."

"Which would be?" Nami raised her brow, mouth curving into a frown.

"I have to find Three and Five; they turned themselves in for me, and HQ is probably going to kill them unless I show up as soon as possible."

Sardoc straightened up with a soft cry of alarm. "4538A3 and 5B8152? I know those...I remember them!"

"Would you like a star for that?" Sanji drawled but reflexively winced a moment later at Nami's disapproving glare. "Sorry…"

The man nodded distractedly, furrowing his brow and muttering quietly to himself. "We're on Geone, and HQ's planning on luring you in with two of the Forged Keys, not to mention the fact that Prussian's back from North Blue…if that's correct, then I know exactly where they'll be."

He fixed a heavy, somber look on Sanji, who found it suddenly so hard to swallow; Sardoc's gaze made him feel like a child again, naïve and vulnerable. The sensation of helplessness was only heightened by the somber prediction that he gave him in the next breath, like a passing sentence. "But...that means you're probably not going to escape this place alive, kiddo."


	25. The Project's Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more they search for answers, the more questions that they find. Sanji and Nami want to figure out what's going on in Geone, while Sardoc just wants out of this whole mess.

Sanji's stupidity was a given, as was his propensity for being a self-sacrificing idiot with a surprising amount of guile and wit to actually accomplish his goal to uphold what he deemed worthy and honorable. He had once stepped in front of a full-on lightning attack by a deranged, super-powered god-wannabe to save Usopp, not to mention the time he raised his hand against their captain in the sniper's defense. He would pull the most absurd stunts to "preserve" a woman's honor and dignity (even if it was wholly unnecessary) and almost gave up his life for refusing to fight against Kalifa, of all people. Nami almost expected him to say or do something stupid like that every time he opened his mouth nowadays.

But, she hadn't expected him to nod quietly at Sardoc's ominous warning and say, without a flicker of emotion in his eyes or on his features, "then I'll escape in death from that place, Sardoc."

Sardoc frowned, obviously taken aback by his statement. He closed his mouth and looked away as though he didn't know what to say.

Nami, however, had more than plenty of words for the idiot. "I find myself asking this more and more often when it comes to you, which is very worrying, I'll add. Are you completely deaf or is it that you just try to think of the stupidest thing to say and then say it, just for laughs? You can't escape if you're dead, moron!"

He looked guiltily at her. "Nami, please-"

"He said it's too dangerous," she continued quickly, her heart dropping when his expression remained the same. "This is obviously what HQ wants; she's been after your life since the beginning. She'll kill you, and she'll win, and it isn't fair! _I threw seventy-seven million into the harbor for you!"_

Sanji gaped at her, speechless, and even Sardoc made a small noise of disbelief in the back of his throat. "Seventy-seven million _belis_?"

"My bounty…" Sanji breathed, still looking dazed and confused. She wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to stay upright with the way he was swaying on his feet. It made her wonder how he had even made it back into the Inner Cities, if even the slightest thing had him just barely clinging to consciousness and coherency. "You…you gave up my bounty for me?"

She maneuvered him into the chair, scared by how easily and quietly he complied when she gave up her seat for him. There wasn't so much as a half-hearted protest or " _mellorine_ " from his lips. Nami brushed his hair out of his face and felt his forehead, wincing at the fever at her fingertips. 

"I did, idiot," she acknowledged, kneeling down in front of him tiredly. "HQ sent a rotten group of pirate goons to trade off and essentially buy you off us. We were supposed to leave Staithe without you, for good, in exchange for the full amount of your bounty. I let them know exactly what we thought of that deal."

She laced their fingers together and laughed weakly, her vision blurring with tears. "Oh my God, you are worth _so_ _much_ _more_ _than that_ , Sanji. I can't-"

He pulled her into a tight embrace, and she felt like she really _would_ start crying now. "Nami, I am so sorry for everything I've put you through. _All_ of you. If I could take it all back, believe me I would."

"Come back with us, then. _Please_."

"…I don't really have a choice," he sighed and leaned back in the chair with a soft grunt, his hands fluttering briefly at the pocket of his sweater like he was searching for his cigarettes. She wondered when the last time he'd had one was and cursed herself for not remembering to bring a case. Then she berated herself for even thinking about indulging his horrible habits. "Three and Five are here because of me, and if I have to trade myself in for their lives, then I will. But I won't let HQ win."

Sanji told them about waking up to find the Biles destroyed and taken over by HQ, about learning that he was supposedly the "Key" to the Project that they had been searching for, about discovering the carriers of the original virus still stored up underneath Base AAGE and the room of labeled vials. They were almost certainly victims, he said, probably long dead by now but also strangely familiar. He thought that he had heard the language they were in.

"It's like this island," he muttered. "There's something else going on below the surface, and I feel like I can figure it out if I just stay a little longer, too. I have to know why I feel like I've heard this before."

"At what expense?" Sardoc said, furrowing his brow. "I wasn't just saying that to scare you; The Blue Room is the last stop for all of the Project's cases when they even slightly suspect them of being a 'Key'. No one comes out of that thing alive."

Sanji shook his head impatiently. "Didn't I say that I wouldn't let them win? I'll claw my way back out of the grave if that's what it takes, but I'm finding Three and Five and figuring out what the hell is going on in this place."

"…you are such an idiot that I'm almost convinced to help you, if only to see how far you really take it." Sardoc had a faraway look in his eyes, and his smile was fond, in a way. Whatever he was thinking of, it was tinged heavily with nostalgia. They didn't say anything about it, and he quickly sobered up, mouth curving into a sulk before he offered his information reluctantly. "Fine, I'll tell you what I know about 'the room that never stops eating', but you have to remember that under no circumstances are you to go in there, even if HQ has already stuffed Three and Five into its maw."

Sanji's eyes flashed, intrigued. Nami couldn't say she wasn't curious about it herself, but there was something that unsettled her about the seemingly innocent and senseless phrase, even if she knew it was figurative. Sanji didn't seem bothered by it at all; there was no hesitation in his voice.

"Tell me," he said.

Sardoc pursed his lips, reaching up to cover his mouth. He was stopped by the clear plastic of the oxygen mask, and he looked down in mild surprise. "Supposedly it's what the Key is meant to unlock, although no one is exactly sure what it is. A door, a gate, a path, some kind of weapon…I've heard all sorts of things. Only HQ is suspected to know, although their lips are sealed tight. Them and their victims, probably, although none of them lived to tell anyone about it."

"A path or door?" Sanji wondered aloud, tapping his finger against his chin. He winced as he brushed against a particularly painful bruise and dropped his hands to his sides. Nami gave him a look to let him know that it hadn't escaped her notice, and he nervously avoided her gaze. "What are they trying to find beyond it, if that's the case? Or if it's a weapon, what in the world could I do about it? Am I supposed to know how to use it?"

"Who knows? Whatever it is, HQ is risking two of their other 'Keys' to bring you to it, which means that they have a serious amount of certainty that you're the one they want, if they're willing to throw 4538A3 and 5B8152 away for this."

Nami was puzzled by the numbers at first, but the look on Sanji's face made her realize that she already knew who they must be. Three and Five, then.

Sanji turned his head sharply, attention now entirely on Sardoc. "The Medics…are Keys too? Why don't they know about it?"

"Please, they won't say anything to those who are involved this deeply in the Project," Sardoc laughed, a note of derision in his tone. His smile became more rueful as he continued, and there was a definite lack of energy in his responses now. "They only tell me these things because I'll forget it all later anyway. The Forged Keys, your 'Medics', don't even work; something went wrong in the process and they ended up as failed, unstable creations. Why would they bother telling them anything?"

"Hold on," Nami interrupted, raising her hand to stop Sanji from saying anything before she asked this question. "Did you just say that they were created by the Project, like they actually _made_ them?"

At his single, silent nod, Sanji and Nami were left staggered but of course, skeptical. "H-how would...?"

"I don't _know_ , probably the same way they made those damn parasites a couple of hundred years ago. I imagine it was much harder to make humans, as they couldn't even figure out how to take care of them properly."

"Impossible," Nami said firmly. "They lied to you, Sardoc; it's probably just a cover-up story so that they don't have to explain to everyone how they kidnapped a bunch of people to use in this sketchy project."

Sardoc raised his eyebrow at her. "Your captain stretches like rubber, you have a crewmate who can magic up extra arms...you have a talking wombat, for God's sake. Honestly, I have an easier time believing that humans can be grown in a test tube."

"First of all, he's a reindeer," Nami snapped peevishly, looming over him with all the menacing aura that her height afforded her (this wouldn't have been at all possible if he weren't bedridden and flat on his back). "Second of all, you do have a point, but even on the Grand Line, is this really at all possible?"

"I've heard of stranger things happening," Sardoc shrugged. "It fits in with everything else I know, anyway, which means it can't be that far from the truth. I might not remember it, but I remember knowing it once."

Nami heaved an exasperated sigh. "Sorry if I can't say I have the upmost confidence in your memory when even you're admitting you don't actually know for sure."

"Hey, I'm trying here, but it isn't easy not-"

"Oi, 0N1907! Visitor here!" There was a knock on the door, and the three of them fell silent, tense. Nami nearly sat down in Sanji's lap (which elicited a tiny squeak of surprise from him), and then she remembered that he wasn't even supposed to be in there. If the guards found him…HQ had probably already put out notice what he looked like, if not that he was already here in Geone.

"Decent or not, we're coming in," announced the voice at the door.

Sanji still didn't move.

"Idiot, _hide_ ," Nami hissed.

Sanji blinked in confusion. "Where?"

"Any-" The door opened to a quiet scene in the dimly lit room, and the guard peered in at Nami and Sardoc with a suspicious frown. They smiled innocently at him, back in the same place and state they had been left in earlier that evening. The guard shrugged and let in a slight, dark-haired person with stooped shoulders and pale eyes; in the shadowy light, Nami was having a hard time figuring out whether they were male or female or even an _adult_.

"0N1907, it's my eternal displeasure to see you again," they said in a voice that was just as neutral and indistinct. "Although it does my heart good to know how far you've fallen, Least Favorite Subject."

Sardoc's eyes narrowed, a hint of real fear in his gaze. "Echa-"

A white hand clamped down around his neck like a vice. "You will not refer to me by anything other than the Assistant, is that clear?"

Her gaze drifted over to Nami, who sat pale and trembling in her seat by the bed. A saccharine smile ghosted across the Assistant's colorless lips. "We have company, you see. A shame you haven't forgotten that name yet."

She released her grip on him, and he fell back on the bed, coughing and gasping. He glared blearily up at her, rubbing his throat gingerly.

"You've let yourself go," the Assistant said.

Sardoc rolled his eyes, resting his folded hands over the lump under the sheets; Nami said nothing but prayed fervently that Sanji wouldn't move or say anything to give himself away. "Yes, because with a virus eating out my stomach all I've wanted to do these past eleven months is stuff my face until I've glutted myself like a pig."

"Hilarious." Her smile remained fixed on her face, but there was a hard, angry glint in her eyes. "Why are you even alive, Dagne?"

Nami glanced sidelong at Sardoc, the question burning on her tongue, but if he recognized the name he didn't show it. Had she been mistaken? No, the Assistant looked completely self-assured as she said it, so maybe it was a name he had forgotten about. His real name, or a false identity? Either way, he took her disdainful tone and words with a cocky grin and a shrug. "As long as I get to embitter the lives of the Project, then I've done my job."

"You are still so…" She chuckled derisively and pinned his arm down against the railing with a thump. "How can such a filthy little sneak like you be so childlike in your ignorance? So simple, so _stupid_."

The Assistant leaned over him, blocking Nami's view of Sardoc and the bed. She had a sinking feeling about the entire thing, but she herself was trapped between the wall and the bed, with no way of seeing what the Assistant was up to. But, she could still hear the woman's whispered voice, and how ominous her words were.

"Yes, you know exactly what's in this, don't you? I promise that you won't feel more than a little pinch right now. A kinder fate than someone like you deserves."

"What's that?" Nami said before she could stop herself. The Assistant whirled around and hid something behind her back; she caught a tiny glimpse of it before it disappeared. It was long and slender and gave a sinister glint in the pale light. "That looks like a-"

"You know he's very sick, girl," she said impatiently. "I am only here to make sure he receives his proper and just treatment."

Sardoc had turned his face away, his breath coming in short, trembling gasps; Nami was certain that if he looked their way, his expression would hold nothing but dread and pain. "Just get it over with, please."

The defeated tone in his voice alarmed her, but instead of fear she felt only anger. Nami sprang to her feet and shoved the Assistant away from the bedside. "What's in that thing?"

"It's none of your concern."

"That's not what I asked, _lady_."

She found herself suddenly staring at the gleaming, dripping needletip of a thin syringe, held like a dagger above the Assistant's head. "Fine, then. If knowing what's inside is really all you want…"

Several thoughts jumped to the front of her mind, musing on the way her blood had just frozen in her veins and how she couldn't get herself to move out of the way, or the subtle winking of the IV stand from where it leaned against the wall, nearly forgotten since this began. She was scared to move out of the way but even more terrified of the fate that little syringe held for her. Whatever it was (poison or something even deadlier), she had no way of knowing except for one, and it was coming for her.

Nami wasn't surprised when Sanji's leg lashed out and blocked the Assistant's movement, although she was disappointed in herself for not doing anything to protect herself, too.

The Assistant had been expecting that too, it seemed. She glared at him out of the corner of her eye, but she looked surprised to have seen him come out of the cabinet instead of the bed. The bedsheets were bunched up in her free hand, revealing nothing hidden in the bed except for a pile of rumpled blankets from the closet. It had been ridiculously easy to pull _that_ trick off. The Assistant shook her head impatiently and pulled away, the syringe still clutched tightly in her hand.

"I knew it'd draw the little rat out," she spat, rounding on him with awful intent written all over her face. "HQ promised me you wouldn't lift a finger to harm a female, isn't that right? They said you were woefully incompetent and pathetic."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to let you hurt either of them," he said, backing away from her with a grim expression, lightly clipping and stopping her movements at every turn. "And I could care less about what HQ told you; funny enough, that's exactly what I think of them, too."

 _"You would dare scorn my Master?"_ The Assistant stabbed furiously in Sanji's direction, quickly realizing that she'd never get a blow in with the syringe in her hand. Giving a frantic little laugh, she drew out a gun with her free hand and aimed for his face. "Scorn this, you loutish runt!"

Nami moved before the conscious thought had formed in her mind, and she brought the IV stand crashing into the side of the Assistant's head with a splintering crack. She crumpled like paper, a black-and-white form slumped on the floorboards. In her shock, she dropped the pole to the floor next to her and stumbled back into the bed's railing. "O-oh my God, I think I b-broke her head."

"It's okay," Sanji breathed next to her, fumbling with the handcuffs keeping her fixed to the railing. His face was slightly green and his eyes were glazed, like he was holding back tears and trying not to pass out. "It's okay, we have to get out of here. Okay, okay, okay?"

She couldn't even form a proper response anymore; all that came out of her throat was a tiny croak of a noise.

Someone dragged her towards the doorway, rushing past the guard on the other side with a mumbled "excuse me" before the man really had the chance to ask any questions. With all of the screaming and crashing inside the room, not to mention the fact that he had seen them leave, they probably had no time at all to escape anymore. And when he found the Assistant…Nami restrained a shudder and let herself be led down the hallways blindly, half-dragged and half-carried in a mad dash to get away.

It was only when they stopped that she noticed Sardoc's hand on her arm, Sanji a pale, shaking mess on his left, and she wondered how much she had missed out after her mind blanked on her. She hadn't even heard him talking to them, not over the sound of that horrible crunch still echoing in her mind.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered tightly as Sanji leaned against the wall next to her, while they took a moment to orient themselves. They could only stare numbly at him, unfocused and speechless. "I should have gotten you out, I should have stepped in earlier. This is all my fault, I'm sorry."

"Sh-shut up," Sanji hissed, slowly regaining his composure now that they had put some distance between them and the room that held…the Assistant, in whatever condition her skull might be in. "You're not the one who was trying to poison Nami."

"...o-or blow half Sanji's face off," Nami said, amazed that she'd found her voice so soon after what had happened. "This wasn't your fault."

Something in Sanji's eyes hardened, as did his voice when he looked back at Sardoc. "I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. We can handle ourselves and we can handle what we need to do."

Sardoc shook his head remorsefully. "It shouldn't have come to this. If I'd just done things differently, if I'd made you go on ahead and leave me behind..."

"Stop saying that!" Nami frowned, slapping his arm like a sharp reprimand. Unfortunately, that was the arm that his IV drip was still attached to, and it fell to the floor with a muted squelch, spilling its contents all over the ground. They stared at it dumbly, as though any amount of staring would reverse what had just happened.

Nami panicked inwardly. What had she just _done_?

She looked at Sanji, who was simply edging away from the spill like it was a toxic mess (which, honestly, it could have been). He shrugged at her helplessly and said, "Sorry, I was told my medical skill was amateur at best."

"Thanks, Sanji. That's useful."

Sanji was about to launch into a tearful, soppy tirade of apologies and possibly even an ode of lamentation, if she was unlucky, but something about Sardoc's reaction made her ignore him for a moment. Sanji pouted and vied for her attention, but then he also paused, curious at everyone's sudden silence. "What happened?"

Sardoc was shaking for a full minute before Nami realized that he was laughing.

"You're alright," he seemed to decide, if the relief in his voice was anything to go by. Sure, Nami could tell he probably found them very funny at the moment, but it wasn't often that someone looked at pirates like them with that kind of warmth. "Of course you can handle yourselves, kiddos."

"Are you mocking us?" Sanji bristled, straightening to glower down at him.

Nami shushed Sanji and tried to salvage what was left of the IV bag (fruitlessly, it seemed). "The real question is, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he shrugged, surprisingly well for someone who'd just had his medical therapy violently interrupted, "but I guess I should thank you, or something. Huh, _that's_ something I don't usually have to say."

Her smile deflated. "Don't tell me you're going to revert to total heartless jerk again."

"Faster than you can say-oh,  _shit!_ Get down, kid!"

Nami screamed as he threw himself over her, the sharp steel edge of a blade very nearly slicing through her head. She heard Sanji's footsteps; one, two, and her attacker crashed to the ground near her feet. Another pair of steps and several more of them hit the floor with a chorus of grunts and yelps. Heart pounding, she scrambled to sit up, hauling Sardoc behind her when she saw the full gravity of the situation before them.

Sanji stood over them, back straight and tense as the guards approached him slowly, weapons raised and at the ready.

She glanced at the other end of the hallway where another group had just arrived, as menacing and angry as the first group. All of them were heavily armed and wore the same thick plated armor that she remembered seeing on the docks back when the harbor had first gone up in flames and explosions. They were a formidable looking crowd, but what worried her the most was that their path was blocked.

They were surrounded.


	26. Without Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji had no idea that his luck was this bad, Nami had no idea that he was so reckless (except she did), and everyone is plotting to kill them all. Except for HQ, strangely enough, who simply wants to meet for a cup of tea and a chat. 
> 
> It's a possibility, isn't it?

Sanji was finding himself increasingly pressed for room to fight in these close quarters, especially with two people who desperately needed his protection. His fighting style had always depended on the raw power behind his kicks, and that involved having enough space for a good sweeping arc. With the guards closing in on them and nowhere to back up to, he felt almost claustrophobic.

"There's too many of them!" Nami yelped, shoving away an unconscious guard who had fallen too close to her feet. "Sanji, we need to get out of here!"

Sanji gave her a sloppy grin over his shoulder, turning his attention away from his fight to send an apologetic plea to the navigator. "Working on it, my Nami-dearest! Forgive me for my careless and disgraceful behavior; I'll have us out in a bit!"

"Pay attention to _them_ , not to me!"

"B-but they aren't cute like you, Swan-swan!"

One of them must have taken offence at that because he nearly lost his head in the next second. _"Shit!"_

He ducked in time to avoid having the guard's club lodged into his brain and gave the man's knee a rabbit quick jab that toppled him like a sack of potatoes. It brought him crashing into two of his comrades, who ended up dropping their weapons to catch the brunt of his weight as they fell. Sanji turned sharply and drove his boot into the next guard's chest, wincing when he heard the telltale _pop_ of a broken rib. That was an injury he was all too familiar with.

But he had no time to think on that, not when the wall of guards pressed on him from all sides. Where he took down three of the guards, twice that number rose up to replace them. It was a frustrating struggle, and one they really didn't have time for. Nami was right; they needed to escape, but how?

"Enough."

Sanji knew who it was from the agony that exploded in his thigh as soon as he spoke, and he stumbled with a sharp cry, clutching his leg desperately. "You-"

Chief Prussian stood at the end of the hallway, flanked by a fresh troop of guards on either side. His gloved hand was on the hilt of the jeweled sword, revealing a thin sliver of the gleaming steel blade in its sheath. His eyes glittered under the helm he wore, all dark, wicked amusement as he approached the heart of the brawl. "Unsurprising that the little waif was right in the middle of this whole mess…you make it too easy. I may have hoped for a better chase, runt."

"Prussian, you bastard…" A second inch of the blade emerged and had him on the ground, screaming hoarsely. It proved his theory that the wielded sword was somehow connected to that invisible wound, but he was in too much pain to do anything but grit his teeth and bite back another yell. He couldn't muster up the strength to say anything else.

Someone dragged him up off the ground, and though he wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and sleep for a century, he forced himself to follow, praying his legs wouldn't give up on him now. It was only several minutes later, when one of the guards shook him roughly by the shoulder, that he realized he had blacked out. Possibly. It could have just been that he hadn't heard whatever they were saying in favor of drowning in the pain.

"Get the hell off me," he mumbled, trying to shrug their hands away only to receive a harsher grip on his arms for his trouble. Nami was begging them to let him go, and from somewhere behind him he heard the muffled sound of steel sliding against cloth and fabric. She was sobbing quietly, and the thought that they had hurt her made him seethe. "Don't you _dare_ touch her."

"You idiot," Prussian said softly, and he felt the chill of cold steel against his back, suddenly clear as day and just as bright. "The silly girl is weeping for you."

If the pain in his leg was nearly unbearable, he couldn't imagine having that sword cut into his back. _He's going to incapacitate me for good; he's going to leave me paralyzed._ His heart began to pound desperately, and he struggled with a sudden surge of energy, as useless as it was now. They had him pinned down with nowhere to run. "Prussian, I know what you plan-"

"Oh? Good, then it won't come as too much of a shock, will it?"

"-and I'm telling you, do _not_."

Sanji felt the Chief lean in just then, so that only he could hear the terrifying gentleness in the way he spoke as he whispered in his ear. "You know, Duparis never begged either, though whether you also share her pride is something I can't decide yet.  _Did anyone tell you that you look just like her?"_

He stepped back and adjusted his grip on the sword slightly, like he was preparing for a long task. His voice was loud and resonant now; he wasn't planning on keeping this part a secret between the two of them. "I promise that if anything, you won't have to worry about suffering ever again."

Sanji felt his blood freeze in his veins, but his nerves were _alight_. He was shaking from head to toe, eyes wide and brimming. If he wasn't begging now, it was because he could do nothing but gulp down a sobbing breath every so often between his trembling lips. His back shuddered; he could feel the echoing reminder of his injuries from the Drum Rockies give way to a new pain, imagined the hot flash his mind would register just as that cold steel blade parted through him, how Prussian would keep him alive just to inflict that burning wound over and over again. Methodical, precise. Nothing but the constant pain of that sword thrust into his spine.

It wasn't that he just feared the prospect of pain (he had taken his fair share of beatdowns in battle before), but the deliberate manner in which Prussian moved, the way that this was nothing less than premeditated…it wasn't a fight anymore. This was genuine torture, and it was actually going to happen.

He couldn't even scream.

And then a different pain erupted from that muffled, eerie silence, sudden and bright as he hit the floor on hands and knees. Gasping, he watched the blurry outline of his fingers become solid, his blind panic ebbing away slowly, slowly. There was a hand on his back, then arms just as gentle around his shoulders, and there was Nami at his side,

Steel glided smoothly across wood as the scabbard was slipped back over the blade, and for a moment Sanji could focus on something other than pain and terror.

He looked up numbly to see Sardoc standing over Prussian, arms shaking with the strain of holding the sword and sheath in place even as Prussian struggled to draw it out again. The look in the Chief's eyes was as cold as ice.

Sardoc didn't even hesitate. "Move."

Someone collided solidly with Sanji, and then he and Nami tumbled over onto the sleek wooden boards, rolling with the force of the impact in time to get out from underfoot. They scrambled back as Prussian and Sardoc pulled away from each other, with Sardoc coming out with the sword and scabbard in his hands, drawn.

Prussian paled. "Fall back, _now_."

Everyone drew back as though burned, giving them a wide, arching berth, even if their way out was still blocked. Sanji felt Nami push him back against the wall, and even through the fever-pitch vibrating of his nerves, he could still feel her shivering against his chest. He watched the guards hang back around them, nervously eying the sword that stood between them and their prize.

"Oi, Prussian." Sardoc spoke frankly, but there was still something clipped about his words that betrayed his weakness. He sounded out of breath and struggling to keep his voice steady. "Tell them to make way for these kids."

"You're addled."

Sardoc gave a sharp laugh, and the guards flinched at the light glinting off the sword. A smirk crossed his face briefly, and he pointed the blade straight at Prussian's face, who looked like he wanted to murder someone immediately. "You knew that when I offered to be the only voluntary lab rat among the Project's assets, Chief. Stop acting like you're surprised and tell them to move it; I know what this thing does."

Prussian raised his eyebrow at the tip of the sword and shook his head. "You're bluffing; I know the game you play, 0N1907. You lie and cheat and pull every manner of underhanded trick in order to weasel another day for your miserable existence. You don't plan to fight us all, especially not in your state."

"What are you talking about?" Sardoc shrugged cheerfully, gesturing at his clothes with a wide sweep of his left arm, which currently held the sword aloft as well. It passed dangerously close to one of the guards near him, who cringed involuntarily and inched back a little. "You guys gave me trousers this time, thank God. I don't mind a few hours of an impasse with my nethers all nice and warm."

"That's not-" Prussian ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "See, you're doing it now."

"Doing what?"

"That…oh, stop laughing, you little louse!"

Despite having been held near torture only moments earlier, Sanji couldn't help but find amusement in the situation, especially the Chief's reaction. He had been terrified of the power and control the man had over him as he wielded that blade, but now, seeing how Sardoc had drawn that very sword without bringing him to his knees in pain (as well as how he was already working himself under Prussian's skin so effortlessly), it was easy to forget the fear for a little while. The fact that Prussian was blushing almost drew a snicker from his lips.

He did realize, however, that their situation was a lot worse than Sardoc was making it out to be. They were still trapped and outnumbered, nursing significant injuries and exhausted. He didn't know how long Nami and Sardoc had been running, but they were looking more and more drained by the second. The guards had noticed and were creeping closer, probably calculating how quickly they could take Sardoc down and wrestle them all into submission.

Sanji stood with more confidence and energy than he had expected, even if his knees felt like they were made of jelly. "Hold on a second, Prussian."

Nami grabbed his arm pleadingly. "Sanji, this is no time for heroics."

"She's right," Prussian said, letting his frown flicker away from the sword pointed at him to glare at Sanji. "We're not letting any of you go, no matter how you try to bargain. 0N1907 is our property, the girl belongs to HQ, and you are nothing but a liability. No one has the right to leave this island."

"We're not trying to leave," Sanji contested quickly, stepping back with Nami when all of the guards raised their weapons at them. Sardoc flicked the blade of the sword and covered him, standing in front of the pair with the sword and scabbard raised defensively against their almost-captors. He had to make this fast. "I'm trying to help you fulfill your obligations to HQ."

This time, everyone stepped back to look at him. "What?"

 _Good, I have their attention._ "I don't want to leave this island, honestly. I want to stay, but I want this on my terms."

Prussian's eyebrows knit together. "Keep talking, brat. You're starting to lose me."

"Let me talk to HQ; that's what they want, right?" His mind was racing but he felt as cold as ice. It was all he could do to keep from shivering. "They want me, and I want to find them. When you get down to it, our goals aren't so different, are they?"

The Chief studied him closely, and for a moment Sanji felt like he was back beneath the sword, with cold, gleaming metal biting into his spine as Prussian taunted him mercilessly. The man slowly granted him a cold sneer. "You must think yourself clever right now, little waif, but a silver tongue you are not."

He nodded at the guards at the other end of the hallway, and they lowered their weapons to allow the smallest of openings for them to pass. Sanji glanced over his shoulder in disbelief, then back at Prussian. "Is that…?"

"Make no mistake, I will eventually see you dead, but for now HQ has other intentions." Chief Prussian folded his arms across his chest and looked away furiously. "If you follow that left turn at the end of the hall, there should be a door leading to a larger passageway up to HQ's rooms. Just keep going until you reach the fifth door."

He backed up carefully, making sure that Nami was at his side and matching him step for step. Sardoc hadn't lowered the sword yet, and he wasn't moving. "Sardoc, let's go."

"No, not him."

Prussian nodded again, and the guards closed up the gap between Sanji and Sardoc. One of them reached out to grab Nami, too, but Sanji quickly moved himself between them, heart pounding loudly as he looked back at the Chief in bewilderment.

"You get your audience with HQ, but 0N1907 and the girl stay."

Sanji shook his head. "I take them both. Those are my terms."

"You don't get any terms but those that _I_ set, brat."

"So why are you being so difficult?" Sardoc stepped into the center of the ring of guards, lowering the sword just enough so that he could slip it back into its scabbard. "They'll keep up their end of the deal, and you'll give HQ what they wanted. They asked to see the girl, anyway, so just let them both go."

Prussian scowled at him. "Silence, 0N1907; I don't need advice from someone as lowly and dishonest as you."

"That's very funny coming from you, actually." Sardoc's hands dropped down behind his back, and Sanji saw him turn the scabbard in his grasp lightly. He adjusted his grip on it, flexing his fingers over the handle a few times before switching it to his right hand. Without warning, he slammed it into the nearest guard, driving the man several feet into the wall on the right. _"Get out of here, kid! This is all right!"_

Sanji almost faltered on that first step, but he recognized when a favor was being extended towards him, and he dragged Nami away from the brawl breaking out in the hallway again without a second pause. He hated the idea of running from a fight, but every second wore on HQ's patience and lessened Three and Five's chances of survival. He wasn't even sure what he would say to get HQ to release them.

"What are we doing, Sanji?" Nami's voice panted from behind him, trembling, as they sprinted down to the end of the hall and the junction that Prussian had mentioned. There were two doors in either direction, left and right. "We have to-"

"We go right," he said, throwing his weight into the door and (miraculously) managing to break the lock on it in one blow. "Come on, we don't have much time."

Nami followed close behind, but there was some hesitation in her voice and her footsteps. "What? But Prussian said-"

"He was lying." Sanji grabbed her hand and took the stairwell down as fast as he dared; the last thing either of them needed was a sprain or broken ankle. "I could see him hesitate when Sardoc looked at him, and then Sardoc took down the first man on his right when they attacked him."

"Yes, but what does that-"

"He's lefthanded, but he fought on his weaker side first, which I took as a cue that we should do the same and ignore Prussian's advice, a sign he obviously meant for our eyes only."

Nami narrowed her eyes at him. "…that is the biggest leap of logic I have ever heard from you, and you once took Robin's betrayal as a sign that she wanted to act out a fairytale with you."

He laughed nervously, wondering if she could tell how utterly tired and frazzled his mind was. "It's still better than trusting that other bastard, isn't it?"

"I don't trust him either," she agreed, stopping him on the second landing below the floor they had just fled from. "But are you absolutely sure about it?"

He took a moment to catch his breath, wincing at that tight feeling in his chest again. His shirt felt wet, and he was afraid to check under the bandages anymore. "He said it himself: 'All. Right.' I think…it could have been 'alright'?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You didn't hear him yell at us to run?"

"He yelled, but I didn't understand a word he said." Nami looked at him curiously. "You did?"

Sanji frowned, thinking back over the last words he had heard Sardoc say. Had he switched to a different language? Was that why no one had noticed the hint Sardoc had dropped them (if it even was one)? He tried the words out loud, cringing at the harsh sound of them in his uncertain voice. "It kind of sounds like the accent you hear around Staithe, but the words aren't in the common language."

"I believe you, but it's strange." Nami looked back up the stairwell, biting her lip nervously as she listened for any sign that they were being followed. "Sanji…we shouldn't have left him alone."

He shook his head. "We can't go back-"

"He's going to die," she insisted, and he felt his stomach twist painfully with guilt and regret. "I know we can't stand and fight, but he can't either. Yes, I probably should be grateful that he helped me get away with you, but it's just so _stupid_. I'm so tired of having to choose to leave people behind."

Sanji felt his heart break at the tone in her voice, and he noticed huge tears welling up in her eyes before she looked away.

"Hey," he said quietly, "we'll come back for him. I promise. He's too much of a jerk to die so easily, isn't he?"

Even though her eyes were still bright and wet, she laughed weakly and looked up at him with a smile. "H-he'd call it being pragmatic."

"Of course," Sanji grinned. "It's probably too troublesome for him to die, anyway, what with us crying over him and stuff. 'No, I hate illogical feelings and people caring about me, guess I'd better not get killed right now.' Better be efficient and avoid all that trouble in the first place."

Nami raised her brow at him coolly and slapped his hand lightly, bringing their attention to his leg. "I could say the same about you, idiot. Why didn't you say that you were hurt?"

Right, he hadn't brought that up with anyone yet. It wasn't like he had found much of a chance to say anything in between all of the confrontations and fighting. "Nami, I'm sorry but I'm alright. Believe me, it's noth-"

"Don't lie to me," she frowned, examining the intact fabric of his pants for any sign that it had been torn. "You don't do yourself any favors. And whatever that man did was driving you mad; it must have been painful."

"It's just a-" What could he call it? A wound? A scar? Neither of those really seemed to fit the invisible source of his pain, nor the strange way that it just barely throbbed and ached until Prussian wielded that sword. "Anyway, we should really get going. It's not fair to Sardoc to waste that head start he gave us."

"Let me see it."

"Nami, can't this wait?"

"No, it can't!"

His cheeks reddened, and he tried to extract himself from her grasp as gently as possible; he had no desire to hurt her or offend her, of course. But she was just as determined to extract him from his clothes, and though there was a part of him saying that he should have been nearly feverish with joy at that, right now there was nothing that he wanted less.

She yanked his pants down with a triumphant yell, just as the door of the landing on their left opened to reveal the Assistant's stooped and gloomy silhouette. "Aha, I've found you! You fools are probably wondering how I survived your barbaric and _entirely_ unnecessary attack but wonder no more-" 

She paused, taking in the sight of Nami with Sanji's waistband bunched up in her hands. "I can…come back later."

Sanji froze, feeling the last of his exhausted, strained, and worn-out mind wither away into smoke, and he wasn't sure if the empty expression on his face was one of sheepish horror or just silent screaming. Nami's face was burning red, and it was also so close to his…erm, _body_ that he could feel the steam coming off her cheeks. In short, this was something out of _List: Embarrassing Nightmares That I Thought I Left Behind in Puberty_.

"No, wait." Nami's voice was nothing more than a pitiful little squeak, and she had turned away from him with her face buried in her hands. _"It's not what you think."_

But the Assistant was gone already, leaving the door wide open as she fled into the darkened hallway. Sanji stared after her, feeling vaguely detached from his body and mind. "Nami, may I pull my pants back up?"

There was no answer, so he decided not to risk engaging the wrath that would surely follow her humiliation and embarrassment. There would be time for that soon enough.

It occurred to him that the Assistant knew where HQ was, and in a hoarse voice, he let Nami know that. "She…she might even lead us straight to Three and Five."

Nami didn't wait for another word; she took off down the corridor after the Assistant, leaving Sanji slumped against the wall of the stairwell with his pants bunched up around his ankles and a very uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He could have at least asked her not to run off like that. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall, regretting every decision that had led him to this point.

"I should have just showed her."

* * *

 

He caught up with her two wings down, past some strange looking steel-doored vaults, and down a wide, dusty stone staircase into an enormous dark hall. It was lit by torches along the longest walls, although the flames were an unusual cold hue and threw the room in the most somber blue light. There was light everywhere except for the center of the room, where the floor suddenly yielded to a jagged black gap of air and space, like something had ripped a huge chunk out of the earth. The air around them was thick and heavy with moisture, settling deep into his lungs until he was left with the sensation that he was slowly drowning, little by little. It was a ridiculous musing brought on by sleep deprivation and fatigue, but he still felt uneasy in this place.

"Are you okay?" Nami glanced at him when he came up behind her, nodding faintly. Her smile was apologetic even though they both knew it didn't need to be; embarrassment and awkwardness passed quickly between friends. "Sorry for running off, I just…"

She trailed off and grabbed his arms suddenly, and it took him a whole minute to realize that his legs had collapsed under him and that Nami was kneeling in front of him, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. Had her eyes always been this huge and brown?

Nami smacked his cheek lightly. "Hey, stay with me, okay? Sanji, come on…what's wrong?"

He felt her wrap her arms around him and he couldn't help the shudder that ran down his spine as he mumbled these quiet words into her shoulder: "…'m hungry…"

It was true, and it was obviously understandable (he couldn't remember the last meal he'd had), but something didn't feel right about it. He had gone without food before, and he could bear a few days of that angry, gnawing feeling. This, however, had come out of the blue and so viciously that he felt like something was trying to claw its way out of him. _The parasite_ …no, he had gotten _rid_ of it already.

"It's this room," he said, pulling back to look across the gaping void in the middle of the floor. "I think…this was a mistake."

"It is not, and you are keeping my Master waiting."

The Assistant stood at the top of the stairs, glaring down at them with eyes that both reflected the light of the room and also seemed to glow all the paler because of it. She nodded at Sanji and curled her lip back sneeringly. "You came all this way, so why are you still simpering there like a child? Get back on your feet."

"Hey, he doesn't have to do a thing for you!" Nami snapped, her hands balling into fists at her side. "What is this place, anyway?"

Sanji straightened up slowly, feeling like he was trying to move underwater. "Is this The Blue Room?"

She threw her head back and gave a loud, echoing cackle that bounced off the walls for minutes. "If you _have_ to ask! My Master doesn't appreciate dimwits like you-"

Her eyes went very wide and round, and she winced furiously as her hands came up to clutch at her head. " _Owww_ … _my head_ …damn you for trying to kill me, witch."

Nami jutted her chin out and gave the Assistant a haughty glare. "Serves you right for trying to stab my friends with a syringe full of who-knows-what."

"And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for your meddling." She noticed how close they were sitting and bit her lip, unsure and confused. "Um, is this a bad time again?"

" _Wait_." Sanji stood up shakily, angry at himself for needing to support his weight on Nami's shoulder. Nami, graciously, didn't say anything about it and simply wrapped her arm around his waist, eliciting a disgusted noise ("Eugh, libidinous adolescents") and a disapproving frown from the Assistant. He shook his head clear of whatever thread of conversation that would lead to and focused on why he was really here. "Where are Three and Five? Did HQ already…?"

He glanced briefly at the mouth of the hole, feeling his stomach give a nasty flip when he thought of them being thrown in there to die. _The Blue Room is the last stop for all of the Project's cases…no one comes out of that thing alive._

The Assistant seemed to read his mind, and she smirked widely at the look on his face, whatever it might have held. Fear, worry, dread? He wasn't so sure anymore. "Don't be ridiculous, why would HQ throw in a couple of faulty 'Keys' in there when they have the real thing right here?"

Sanji felt a thin smile creep up on his face, the only real smile he could manage anymore. "Oddly enough, I believe you. But I won't get to see them until I speak with HQ, huh?"

She nodded, her face empty of all traces of that smirk. "They're waiting for you in there. You've kept them long enough."

"In there?" Nami looked sharply at the hole in the floor, wrinkling her forehead in distrust. "We don't even know if there's a bottom to that, let alone what might be down there."

"Only HQ, if he's the one. Which, may I add, he is." The Assistant shrugged at him and gestured at the center of the room. "Do you want to see your friends or not?"

He had crossed the room and was mere steps away from the edge of the gap before Nami caught him by the arm and stopped him. There was a furious edge to her eyes, even as they filled to the brim with tears.

"I never meant to drag anyone into a mess like this," he offered by way of apology, though it really should have been done better. Properly, with flowers and fancy little drinks and a five-star meal. Full courses and desserts and those little tangerine jellies that she loved. All he could do now was to hold her hand and hope that she understood. "But I think I need to do this. It's the only way out that I can see…and they wouldn't have gone in there if it wasn't safe."

"You're such an idiot," she said finally, leaning her shoulder against his and staring down into the void. "But I know you're right, even if this does turn out to be a mistake."

They sat together for a good while, and if he lingered a little at the end and was more than reluctant to leave her behind, none of them mentioned it. The Assistant rolled her eyes when he made her promise that nothing would happen to Nami while he was gone, and that included any attacks from _her_ , and then she _really_ recoiled when Nami threw her arms around Sanji and squeezed him tightly.

_"Satyrs incarnate! Please, just go already!"_

Sanji looked over his shoulder at the Assistant. "I'm glad we didn't kill you, by the way."

The Assistant bristled and crossed her arms over her thin chest moodily. "That doesn't make me happy, you little rat! Shut up!"

He smiled sadly at her, then turned his attention to Nami, who was torn between glaring at him and trying not to cry.

"I'm not leaving without you," she whispered, to which he nodded in agreement ("I'll come back"), and then, with a longing glance back at Nami, he slipped over the edge of the mouth.


	27. Up in the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franky learns that sometimes, jumping ahead of the rest isn't always one of the most sensible choices. Other times, it can mean the difference between life and death, but who's really keeping track, Ms. Malakmher Ctena?

Franky had never seen Usopp so quiet before. It wasn't just that he hadn't said a single word since they left the base hours ago, but everything in the way he moved and walked was guarded, too. There was a thin, deep furrow between his eyebrows and a downward tilt to his lips that only just managed to keep from trembling. His eyes stared into nothing.

Slate looked much the same, only his worry and distress hid behind hard, more angular features instead. In the faint light of the moon, his face looked like it was carved from stone. He, like Usopp, refused to even look in his direction.

The reason for their silence was only sort of Franky's fault, a little. Well, it wasn't like he had made Usopp upset, at least not yet. Usopp was preemptively avoiding any conversations with his friend in spite of what had happened back in the Medics' quarters, or maybe, because of it. No, he wasn't angry at Franky, he knew that…but at _himself_. Franky remembered the quiet shadow that had fallen over his face when they woke up to find that they had lost several hours and their friend since the explosion. He himself only woke up some time after Usopp did, who'd had a while to stew in his dark, reflective gloom alone.

_"Usopp? Oi, are you okay?"_

_His crewmate stared at his hands silently, a tired cross between a smile and a frown on his face. "He's gone, Franky."_

_As though he only just heard Franky's question, Usopp nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm alright. But Sanji…he-"_

_"He's_ dead _?" Franky croaked, feeling like he had just swallowed his heart, or something roughly the size of it. He was this close to passing out from the shock. It explained why he hadn't seen any sign of him in the strange wreckage that remained of the surgery room._

_"What? No." Usopp glared at him. "He just got up and left, somehow. Before you ask me how someone as banged up and as sick as Sanji walked right past all of us in the time it takes to blink, explain to me how this place blew up and left us in one piece, okay?"_

_Franky looked around uncertainly, eying the fragments that should have been buried deep into their bodies right now. He was still trying to figure that part out. "Wait, how did someone as banged up and as sick as Sanji walk right past all of us in the time it takes to blink?"_

_"I'd ask the idiots who apparently hooked themselves up to him and then ran a live current through the whole setup, but most of them are still out cold." He gestured at the row of ruined gurneys and machines strewn on the floor and the Medics tangled up in the middle of it. The Director was knelt on the ground next to Ten, who moaned feverishly underneath the damp cloth laid across her forehead._

_"Don't feel good, One," she whimpered, leaning into the Director's touch. "Make it stop."_

_The Director scoffed lightly and rested her hand on Ten's cheek, but there was a softness in her eyes that belied her real concern for the girl lying before her. "Perhaps you should have considered this before infecting yourself with the Key's virus and running dangerous drugs through your systems for the fun of it, dear. What on earth possessed you to do this?"_

_"Not fun," Ten said weakly. "Hurts. Sanji hurt worse."_

_Franky glanced down at her, raising a brow even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see it. "You did it for him?"_

_Her smile was pained but bright. "Yeah…is he okay?"_

_He didn't know how to answer that question, but Usopp quickly resolved it for him. He was glaring at her, but there was a sympathetic, gentle light in his eyes that made him feel some kind of relief. At least, he wasn't_ all _emotionless. "He's alright enough to get up and wander off on his own again, if that's what you're asking. Whatever you did, it worked a little too well."_

_"He did it for you," she giggled weakly, shuddering as the Director wrapped one of the surviving sheets from the beds around her shoulders. "Because you were crying."_

_Franky and Usopp exchanged a look of astonishment, faces tinged with guilt._

_"Of course he did," Franky groaned, running a hand over his face in frustration. He knew that Sanji had been bothered at seeing how upset they were; he should have said something earlier. 'He was just as unhappy as we were…but of course he wouldn't say anything about it.' Probably thought it was his fault, too. "Now the poor idiot's run off to do God knows what to make it all up to us."_

_Usopp breathed in shakily and looked down at his clenched fists. "Who knows where he is now? We shouldn't have left him alone, no matter how exhausted we were. We…I should have known better."_

_Before anyone could stop him, he rushed out into the brilliant light of the corridor furiously, probably intent on looking for the missing young man in the base. Franky stared after him speechlessly, finding that for once, words failed him._

_Ten murmured, now deeply unconscious, but the Director turned a hard stare at him, piercing and dark. "You know him best. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"_

_'No,' he wanted to say. 'I don't. Usopp would, but somehow I think that he's not in a talking or thinking mood right now.' He decided to try anyway. Straight into danger, was his first guess. Probably in order to save a beautiful woman. Or, seeing the emotional state that he was barely hiding when he first woke up, Sanji was possibly looking to do something reckless out of guilt, fear, or a combination of both. Shaking his head, Franky turned around to join Usopp in his search, feeling like an idiot when he realized that there was a lot he didn't know about his so-called friends after all. "I don't."_

Sanji was nowhere to be found on the base and the surrounding tunnels; it was like he had just vanished like cigarette smoke in the glow of the Sunny's galley.

No, not exactly. Slate had been a tremendous help on that end, to be honest, even if Franky thought he was still a major ass of a guy. He had reported in with his comrades as soon as he was up and able, finding out that Sanji had been seen speaking with the Chief earlier that night. The Chief had mentioned heading into the Inner Cities at one point in the feed before it cut off, and then no one had found any trace of them since. Many of the snails in Control had been shut down and were nonoperational when they checked the security room and therefore no one had any idea what happened after that conversation or whether Sanji had followed, but it was a likely guess. _This is all we have, anyway. Might as well give it a try._

What purpose they had in going to the cities on the Inner Island was beyond him, but Chief Prussian was also someone he didn't place much stock in trusting either. Seeing how he had threatened the Director earlier during their "meeting", which had honestly been more like a one-sided onslaught of insults and derogatory remarks, made him worry about Sanji and how he was doing. The last time they had seen him, he could barely even move (Franky still remembered the feeble embrace Sanji managed to give him before collapsing back on the bed), and Chief Prussian was anything but the gentle, nurturing type. Wherever he and Sanji had gone, he was afraid that the Chief would grow impatient with his weakened state and that Sanji's body wouldn't be able to handle it.

They were taking the surface route to the Cities because although the tunnels cut a quick path below the rough terrain of the forest, there was too much risk of cave-ins in the darkened waterways, especially as they got closer to the center of Staithe. The guards said that the Project had learned the hard way about the seismic activity deep in the bowels of the island's bedrock a long time ago. It must have been deep underground, Franky mused, because in the past week that they had been on this island, none of them had heard so much as a mention about these earthquakes or cave-ins from the locals. He didn't say anything to Slate, who had taken to outright ignoring him since that heated exchange they had before they left.

Maybe he should have thought his words over more carefully, but when Franky thought back to the way that Slate had first treated Twelve when they met and the way he just tossed him aside as soon as he knew that the Medic would survive, he felt that he had been more than generous with what he said to the Border Guard captain. _You're a complete jerkface and I hope he throws every piece of your crap back at you when he finally leaves your sorry ass, you bombastic bastard._

Slate's eyes were suddenly very, very wide, and then Franky had become aware of everyone's stares on the two of them. It took him a second to realize that the focus of their attention wasn't him, not exactly, but Slate. The guard's face turned white, then red, and finally he settled just somewhere on the darker side of green, like he was about to be sick all over the floor. Before his resentment could give way to even the mildest amount of concern for him, Slate shoved past Franky hard and stormed out of the room without so much as a word. Needless to say, no one dared bring it up again.

Franky set his jaw, watching the white disc of a moon slowly wax full through the barren tree branches overhead. No one except for one person.

"Oi, if you're all done giving me the silent treatment, I'd like to say a few things."

They ignored him, which didn't surprise him. They had done that for the past hour now, and it was way past the point where it got on his nerves, but he expected it. He knew Usopp was just trying to keep himself from falling apart, by the way his knuckles were turning white and how his shoulders shook with barely restrained energy. But Slate's reaction confused him…shouldn't he have yelled at him already or thrown a punch or something? He hadn't as much as said a word to him at all, even when the Director asked him to accompany them into the Cities to find Sanji. What was going on with him?

He decided to try again, shrugging slightly at the Director's questioning glance. "Look, you've both got an ax to grind about something that happened earlier tonight, so I'd appreciate it if we all just got this out in the open already. It's stuffy as hell out here, and we're not even indoors anymore."

This time, they both gave him a narrow-eyed glare, mouths tight with tension and frustration. He met their looks with a heated scowl of his own; this was _not_ how they were going to meet up with Sanji once they found him again. "Blame it on me if you want, too. I don't care; I just know that you two are acting like a bunch of snot-nosed brats and I'm tired of it."

That pulled Usopp's chain just enough, all right. He recoiled in shock and disgust, his expression darkening like a storm cloud in the nighttime sky they traveled under. "Excuse me, you jerk? Sorry that I'm not in the mood to waste my breath talking to you when my sick best friend is missing and the last person anyone saw him with threatened an innocent doctor with a sword over coffee and tea! Or do you just not _get_ the seriousness of the situation?"

"The hell?" Slate snarled, snapping at the same time that Usopp did. "You stick your goddamned fake nose into other people's business like my idiot aunt Gladys and _I'm_ the immature one? Stay out of my fucking way and let me help you find that stupid Key so I can get back to my job, you ass!"

The two of them looked at each other in surprise and ducked their heads, letting their attention drift away again to settle on some undefined point within the shadowed trees. Their outburst had probably held more than they meant to say.

Franky couldn't say it was undeserved, really. He had been getting himself involved in things that shouldn't have concerned him (but they did), and he was also being rough on Usopp, too. But the sniper knew he wasn't the only one who was worried about Sanji, didn't he? _Curly-cook is my friend, too. It's killing me to not know where in the world he is right now, or whether he's okay._

He kept his voice steady and refrained, even though it was so tempting to yell back at them with as much anger as they had. "You have a point…both of you. But I do too, and I'm sure you know it as well. Everyone's tense and upset because of what happened and what might happen tonight, but treating each other like garbage isn't helping things, either."

Franky caught Usopp's apologetic half-glance at him and knew that they didn't need to say anything else, but Slate was a whole different matter. The guard, flanking the Director on the right side, only looked even angrier with what Franky had just said.

"I don't have to be lectured by the likes of you, cyborg." Even as a whisper, Franky heard the intended contempt behind that word, and he stiffened.

"…I'm only stating the obvious," he said tightly, swallowing down the bile in his throat. It never used to bother him until the conversation he'd had with Anwhe in the forest, and now it was all he could do to remain calm in the face of that term. "I guess you've gotten used to people taking your shit without complaining, though, with the way you treat Twelve."

"Don't you dare bring that up again!" Slate said sharply, his eyes flashing bright in the dark. "Y-you had no right to back there, in front of everyone, and you don't even now!"

Franky narrowed his eyes, putting two and two together slowly. "You…they don't know about you, do they? That's why you threw him aside like yesterday's paper when everyone started showing up and recovering from the blast."

The Director cleared her throat, catching his attention momentarily. "Franky, don't push it."

"Push what? You mean don't push the fact that he's ashamed to admit he has feelings for-"

 _"Shut up!"_ If looks could kill, Franky was sure that he would be catching up with Tom right now. Slate was visibly shaken and humiliated, and his cheeks were aflame even in the weak moonlight that managed to penetrate through the tree canopy overhead. "You don't know how stupid you sound, talking about things you could never understand. Don't be disgusting and suggest that me and that lab rat…that I… _it's not even a human_!"

Franky stepped back like he had thrown a blow at his face. It took him a while to regroup his thoughts. "You're right…I just look at the disappointment in his face and I obviously can't understand what you see there."

"Enough, Franky," the Director hissed, but Franky was done anyway. He doubted the guard had anything worthwhile to say about it, or that he could ever explain where his shame lay in the first place. Somehow, he felt that even Slate didn't know it himself, if it didn't embarrass him to twist a person's feelings around for his own gain. He was like the Project in that aspect, which had chained Ghea down through her affection for the Dockmaster and wouldn't hesitate to do the same with all of them, with Sanji.

It terrified him to think that they could easily do the same with Sanji, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to find him. He shrugged slowly and kept walking, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead to avoid having to look at Slate again. "We should hurry up; it's getting late."

There was an uncomfortable, heavy silence between them, which broke suddenly when Usopp laughed softly and pointed up at the moon above them. "It's past midnight, can't get much later than that."

At first, he wasn't sure whether the tension had disappeared, but then the Director gave a short chuckle and shook her head in amusement at him. "You'd be surprised, Usopp. I can't count how many times I walked in on the Medics in the middle of a two-week experiment lockdown in the labs, and the Guards have a twenty-four-hour shift schedule to begin with. And this is without mentioning the impossible hours that Duparis kept."

Usopp cringed. "I thought the night watch was bad. How do people do it?"

"Crying, I'd suspect," Franky offered, shuddering inwardly at the thought of having to sacrifice his precious sleep on a regular basis.

"…you wouldn't be wrong." Slate's voice was quiet and hesitant, but he and Franky managed to keep the tense peace between them, and they walked alongside each other with relative civility. "We literally have to tear Auburn off his mattress at the beginning of every cycle, and honestly there's at least one breakdown before the end of each change of shift. Caffeine helps take the edge off, a little."

The Director hid her smile behind her hand. "There's a human side to every story, isn't there? It almost makes our differences look meaningless."

Franky found the sentiment sobering. He had never been quick to judge people, and sometimes that was a good thing (sometimes not), but had he reacted harshly without even knowing the whole story? What was even going on behind the scenes on this island, and what was the story that everyone was hiding behind these codenames and purposes? It occurred to him that he didn't even know anyone's name, their _real_ name, and that he had never bothered to ask.

He wondered if he would ever get the chance to find out.

* * *

They arrived at the top of the hills overlooking the Cities some time after two, according to that new moonwatch that Usopp had devised somewhere between their setting sail from Thriller Bark and their arrival in Staithe (Franky blushed and muttered something about his timepiece being in a place he wasn't comfortable showing them with).

Usopp had given him a long, hard stare, and in the span of the twenty-six seconds that the look lasted, he spoke volumes about exactly what he thought of that statement. The Director had just clasped a hand over her mouth and furrowed her brow, while Slate looked confused, then surprised, and finally just distressed and weary. Franky simply kept his eyes on the horizon and prayed that the moment would pass.

"We…um, should find a way to get down there," he said hoarsely when no one managed to speak up.

Slate shook his head. "The slope's too steep, and we have nowhere to land but the water, which I am very much against, by the way."

The Director stared down at the black waters below them. "The Inner Lake is freezing cold on a good day, never mind a chilly morning in late autumn. But we don't have time to make the trek all the way to the docks; we'll never reach it before high tide."

Usopp studied the city lights sitting on the quiet, dreary surface of the lake. "We may not have to…Slate, you know this area well. Do you remember where the moors for that old transport system might be?"

The Director glanced at him sharply while Slate brought out a pair of goggles and trained them on the city skyline in the distance. "You know those haven't been used in two centuries, right?"

"Yeah," Usopp smiled faintly, tapping his fingers against his leg in a way that Franky recognized as a sign that he was running numbers through his mind. "But I have a theory about them based on the ore deposits I saw in the tunnels of the base. I'm pretty sure they'll hold long enough for what I plan to do."

Oh, the Director's suspicions were probably on the money, Franky thought with a thrill of excitement. Usopp was superbly reckless and daring when he wanted to be.

Slate pointed to his left, not once lowering his goggles from the sight they were directed at; he probably had a precise knowledge of the layout of the forest in reference to the city, too. "Thirty-seven meters due southeast, approximately. These things are old, though. You really want to go around swinging from them?"

Usopp grinned nostalgically. "Trust me, I've done this before. Why, back in my heyday, we used to swing around from jungle vines and branches ten thousand meters above the Blue Sea like it was a rope swing over a little brook!"

The Director pursed her lips. "This _is_ your heyday, Usopp."

"…" Usopp blinked, looking horrified. "Oh no, that means I'm going to keep doing reckless things. _Help_."

Franky threw him over his shoulder and began marching in the direction that Slate had pointed. "Gladly, Longnose. This is promising to be fun."

"No, Franky! W-wait, maybe I'm not so sure after all. I mean, what do I know about the natural resources and industries of Staithe of old? Remember the Poly-sopp net, Franky… _remember the Poly-sopp_!"

It didn't take long for them to find the mooring post for the wire heading down into the Cities, and it took even less time to get Usopp interested in fiddling around with it. It was a fine piece of work, to be honest, and it had held admirably against two centuries of harsh weathering and neglect. The tower stood about fourteen meters tall, one of the shorter ones, according to Slate, and it held three different transport lines leading off in various directions; one of them went deeper into the woods, though judging by the slack it probably broke off at some point. The other two plunged down towards the city-islands, but it was impossible to tell which ones they led to. At any rate, they had no way of knowing which one Sanji was on and would have to search all of them. They didn't have any choice about it, really.

"Will this really hold?" the Director asked, watching Usopp test the tension and the mooring point on one of the lines. They were almost all set to go, in everything but mind and resolve. No one wanted to be the first to jump. "This could all go very wrong, you know."

"Yeah," Usopp nodded, a line of worry wrinkling his brow as he hooked his belt to the line with a makeshift clip. He tested it out with his weight and allowed himself to slid to the end of the platform. He grinned at them over his shoulder and gave them a thumbs up. "Just take care of Sanji for me if I don't make it, okay?"

Then, he pulled his goggles down over his face and leapt off, leaving them behind with a loud zipping sound and a rush of air. Franky and the others rushed to the end of the platform, straining their eyes to find him in the murky blackness of the night. There was no snap, no crash, no scream that would let them know of their friend's fate out there. Franky had never believed that such a silence could make his stomach turn like this.

Then, Slate's Den Den Mushi gave an excited little chirrup. He fished it out of his pocket and spoke to it in a terrified whisper. "U-Usopp?"

Usopp's voice crackled with jubilant delight over the transponder; somewhere in the distance, his scream echoed hoarsely over the water. _"Oh my God, this is the coolest thing ever! You guys have to come right now, I'm not even joking!"_

"Keep it down!" Slate hissed.

"You're alright," the Director sighed, leaning against Slate's arm in visible relief. "Usopp, did you make it to the platforms in the city? It actually held?"

_"Yeah, and you need to try this. It's like a rush! I feel so alive!"_

Franky laughed. "Not bad, Longnose…we'll come join you in a second. Are you off the line?"

_"Just a minute…there! Wow, that was amazing. It's tragic that they haven't maintained these; they also have so much potential! Just think of it, they used this for all kinds of transport back in the day. The bigger ones could even have carried people. This one's small, though, so take it one at a time and I think we'll all be fine."_

"He thinks," Slate said faintly, pressing a hand to his forehead. "The boy thinks we'll all be fine."

"Aw, shut up and get hooked on," Franky grinned, pulling on the line to test its tension again. It still felt strong, and there was enough elasticity to it that he wasn't worried about it snapping on them. "There's still three of us to go and only one line that leads to wherever Usopp landed."

They all passed over the lake without incident, even though they had to convince the Director that nothing was going to happen to her on her way across. She still had a terrified, glassy look in her eyes even after Slate and Usopp helped her down onto the platform.

"I am never doing that again," she vowed as Franky landed beside them.

Usopp pointed at the city-island a couple of hundred meters away on the water. "Actually…we're on a landing platform. The city is just down that way."

Her horrified expression said it all.

Franky scooped her up, struggling, as she was staunchly refusing to cross over again. He could see Usopp and Slate waiting for them on the next platform, and the sky was lightening up gradually enough that their silhouettes were noticeable. "Come on, I'll go with you this time."

"It's not going to hold," she moaned, kicking uselessly at his arm with the back of her foot, or what she could manage to hit of it. " _Please_ , put me down."

"I'll put you down on solid ground, how's that?"

"It sounds awful."

Franky raised his eyebrow at her. "You're a funny lady, you know that?"

This time, she screamed when they jumped; granted, it was a little shriek, but she still buried her face into his shoulder as the city lights rushed past them. He didn't know how she discovered such a fear for it. It had to be one of the most enjoyable things he had done since they arrived on Staithe, and he had gone shopping _and_ partied with his closest friends all in one night here. _That's saying something._ Who knew, maybe this line-jumping could become a thing here on the islands.

Franky felt the line go slack before he saw the cause of their sudden freefall. All he knew was that one minute he was gliding safely (relatively speaking) down to one of the cities on the Inner Lake, the Director clutching tightly to his arm, and in the next they were plummeting all too quickly towards the street below them, wind whistling loudly in his ears.

 _Damn it._ He glanced up skyward, wondering where that piece of debris had come from, and as he watched it smash into pieces on the ground before them, he realized that it looked like a chunk of building. _Someone threw a building at us?_

The Director was screaming bloody murder into his ear, which made him wonder how he had even heard the wind rushing past them. He didn't have any more time to think about that as the rope reached the end of its fall, thankfully, and they ended up not splattered on the pavement below the Northbound Book Shop along with the hunk of building. Instead, he slammed straight into the tower, took the blow to the best of his ability, and then slid the last ten meters down to the street with the Director safe in his arms. It took him a moment to recover, but luckily the only thing he had really sustained was some really bad bruising along his right side. He rubbed his head tiredly.

"I have a feeling we're all gonna need to sleep this entire island away when this is over," he groaned and dropped his hand away, wincing when he aggravated the rope burns on his palm. "Crap, you okay? Director?"

She looked okay, but internal damage was a tricky thing, and he didn't know if she hit anything hard enough to rattle things up in there. Her expression was shell-shocked, and she was still staring up at the broken line, which dangled a couple of feet above them from the old tower. Usopp and Slate were coming down, faces ashen with worry, but then he realized that they weren't just running towards them, but _away_ from something else.

The tower stood on the far side of Geone's city plaza, below the graying, ancient libraries that made up the center of the city-island and its ruins. Currently, it was in short danger of being demolished via a particularly substantial piece of wall coming off the main building on the plaza, and only Usopp and Slate's reflexes saved them all from being crushed along with it. They hit the ground only meters away, suffering some bruises and scrapes from the smaller debris and rubble that went flying out from the center of the impact, but they were alive.

Franky sat up slowly, feeling the right side of his body protest any movement after the battering he had just taken. He didn't have time to worry about that, though; something else was going on. Something big. "What the hell knocked that wall all the way out here?"

Slate looked up in horror at the wreckage along the building's wall. "The libraries…who would do something like this?"

He realized what Slate meant; Geone was the original Staithe's last remnant, its historical center. To see it come down like this…it was nothing short of painful for someone who had grown up with the history of this place. What was going on?

"We need to get back," Usopp croaked, dragging the Director to her feet and stumbling back with her. "Whatever it is, it doesn't look like it's stopping."

As if to accentuate his point, an explosion on the adjacent wall sent a spattering of stone crashing down on the plaza, and they took that as their cue to back up to a safer distance. A second eruption burst forth, and then, instead of just debris and rock, a _person_ came crashing out with the falling rubble. Through the cloud of dust and the fading darkness of the pre-dawn sky, Franky saw them grab desperately at the wall as they fell, and then they hit the stone tile roof of the smaller annex below the building's secondary entrance. They rolled down to the end of the roof, slammed into and brought a stone gargoyle and a good length of railing with them, and came crashing down on the plaza floor hard enough to leave an indent.

 _Shit, what the hell?_ He stood up and began to stumble towards the person, who was tremblingly rising to their hands and knees. "Director, let's go, they-"

A deep, familiar voice cut through the dust and debris like a knife, and suddenly they could all see the plaza clear as day despite the hour of the night. Franky glanced up towards the source of the voice, finding that he didn't need to look that hard at all to find the man he was looking for.

Chief Prussian smiled coldly down at the plaza floor, his dark eyes trained solely on the person crouched in the middle of the wreckage. "Do not keep me waiting, 0N1907. I gave you an order. _Attack me_."


	28. Cavalry and Artillery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's just something about Staithe Wharf that draws out the North Blue in you...one way or another. Usopp probably should have warned the newcomers about that little detail.

The broken tower met the rest of the rubble on the plaza with a great, splintered crunch, ripping two of the steel support beams out of the ground with the force of its own weight. Usopp ducked his head under the onslaught of debris and stinging dust that rose up with the crash, finding it hard to suppress a fit of coughing even as the thickest of it disappeared. He rubbed at his eyes as tears trickled down his cheeks from the dust and dirt, wondering why he was ignoring his sense of self-preservation to watch the unmatched destruction of Staithe Wharf's oldest historic buildings from the middle of the site itself. There had been too many near misses, and he knew that they should have moved away into the side streets already, but still he only backed up as necessary. As risky as it was, he didn't want to leave…he did want to get away from the _danger_ , of course, but not if it meant leaving behind the only clue they had to find Sanji.

Their one lead seemed intent on making that impossible for them, in the sense that he kept goading the man on the plaza to attack him. Not only did he end up taking his fair share of hits, but he was also unarmed against his opponent, who had a sword at hand (albeit one that was still in its scabbard). But he was smiling with a heavy confidence, never mind that he had no weapon and was in danger of being crushed underneath the rubble of the ruins. No, Chief Prussian threw himself into the fight like he had the upper hand.

His opponent fought like a man possessed, forcing the Chief into what was honestly a retreat at points. Stone walls and pillars alike exploded under the onslaught of attacks as they made their way across the plaza, leveling the ruins piece by crumbling piece. 0N1907, the Chief's opponent, relied more on his hands and fists to fight, leaving the sword safe and guarded at his side. He didn't draw it out and made no move to do so, either. Why was he crippling himself by refusing to either pull it out or put it down? It was nothing more than another hindrance in the fight, a disadvantage he didn't need.

He had started off strong at first, considering that he had been slammed through a wall and hit the ground hard enough to shatter bone, but as more and more of his punches were dodged and avoided, it became obvious that he was struggling. When his blows did land, Prussian brushed it off like nothing and threw him down into the dirt, or against the nearest standing column. He hauled himself up to his feet every time, even when Usopp was sure that he couldn't possibly survive such a vicious beating. In any case, despite his impossible endurance (or whatever it was that made him stand up over and over again), he stumbled and pulled one of his punches, clutching his stomach with a grunt of pain. Prussian seized his opening and took him down, throwing him into a line of columns hard enough to bring them toppling with him.

When the dust had settled, Prussian stood in the center of the ruins, looking grimly down at the trembling, heaving figure at his feet.

"The virus has quieted you a little, I see. It was only a matter of time, though I find it fascinating that it took down an entire troop of my men before your body succumbed to it. Imagine what it could do in the hands of the Key..."

0N1907 shook as he tried to rise again, but then an awful cry was ripped from his lips and he collapsed, curling up on himself painfully. He tried to fight back when Prussian took the sword from him and received a kick to the face for his efforts.

The Chief shook his head and dragged him off the floor, forcing his head up just enough to slam him down just as hard against the ground. "I already lost track of that sorry runt because of your stupidity. You've wasted enough of my time, 0N1907."

He still tried to get back up. Even with Prussian holding him down roughly, using his free hand to draw the sword, finally, 0N1907 kept trying. When the man raised his head, a tremendous, incredible effort, it was not an unfamiliar face that looked out at their little group under the bookshop's eave.

_It can't be…_

Blood streamed down a worn expression; there was so much of it that he could barely see the stark white skin underneath that dripping mask. His hair was matted in it, filthy and dark, and yet he could still tell what the color was supposed to be (yellow). Usopp knew it was mere coincidence (it had to be), but his mind was transported immediately to a cold underground tunnel in Base AAGE two nights ago, where he lost a part of his world in a pool of blood. He couldn't move (he couldn't even _breathe_ ), because under the angry, steady fall of blood along the haggard planes of that face, Sanji's eyes stared back at him, heartbroken and forsaken. They burned brighter than the stars above them, not because they held accusation or anger towards him but because of how distant and cold his expression was. Even now, Sanji remained weary and resigned for approaching death.

Usopp fired without thinking.

The blast was a flash flare, a lot less effective than some of his other arsenal for the purpose he needed it for, but it did get the job done. The burst of hot flames, though they died out almost instantly, got Prussian to drop the man and leap back to avoid the heat. He staggered a couple of steps and then shot a scathing glare at Usopp, who held his gaze with an unshakeable resolve. _"Don't touch him."_

The Chief scoffed and took a step towards the man, stopping only when Usopp loaded up another flare into his slingshot, ready to aim and fire. Prussian's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

Usopp's only answer was the flare hitting the ground a few inches from his feet. With a snarl, Chief Prussian retreated, keeping his sword pointed at Usopp as he approached in silent, gradual steps until the distance between him and the man on the ground. He couldn't put his weapon down completely, not with Prussian seething at him from only a stone's throw away, so he did the best he could with one free arm and a whole lot of nerve. His stomach turned at the sight of so much blood ( _Sanji lying facedown in a pool of his blood_ ), and he forced a wave of nausea down as he gathered him up however he could, praying that he wouldn't end up cradling his empty husk of a body. Not again, not again.

Sanji's eyes shimmered with the light of a dying smile.

_…Usopp? You…came back…_

"Sanji," he muttered without actually meaning to. This wasn't Sanji; he _knew_ that. Even so, another image flashed before his mind's eye, Sanji's cool, motionless body on the ground, blood pooling underneath him. If Usopp hadn't been kneeling, he was sure his legs would have crumbled under him immediately.

The man opened his eyes weakly, gaze murky with confusion and pain. He frowned and tried to move away. _"Run…leave…"_

"It's okay, I won't hurt you," Usopp promised. It didn't calm the man at all, who only struggled harder in his grasp, even as a pang of pain drew a sudden gasp from him. "H-hey, you're going to be alright. Just hang in there, okay?"

It happened when he set his slingshot down (bad idea) and the man shoved himself up (but with what energy?), throwing himself over Usopp as the Chief jumped at his chance to strike. The tip of the blade was aimed straight at his heart as Prussian thrust it forward, precise and gleaming. Usopp couldn't possibly move fast enough to block his attack, not even with 0N1907's warning cry. The realization that he was going to die was only a mild shock of an afterthought. _Oh, so it ends with me being stupid, huh?_

Funnily enough, he didn't remember being afraid for once.

There was a whisper like a clap of thunder, if that was at all possible for a clap of thunder to be both silent and booming at once, and then Usopp and 0N1907 tumbled to the ground in a heap, somewhere in the middle of a random street. He heard several screams, startled shouts, and the quick beat of footsteps echoing on the cold pavement. His first thought was something along the lines of unintelligible screaming in his mind, as was the second. In fact, it took him a full minute to calm down and another five minutes to figure out what had happened to him.

For starters, he wasn't dead. No, dead people didn't stare catatonically at petrified passersby while holding up a blood-drenched man he had sort of confused for his friend for a moment (maybe). And dead people certainly couldn't feel blood seeping into their clothes and gravel digging into their skin from kneeling in the middle of the street. Death was out, apparently.

He _was_ lost, though: lost and disoriented. Wherever he looked, he could see tall, dark buildings in the style of Geone's architecture, but he couldn't find the ruins on the plaza, and there was no sign of his friends anywhere nearby, either. "How…how did we get here? What the hell happened?"

"You were merely displaced on a spatial and spherical system between two anchored points, that's all." Usopp nearly screamed as an unfamiliar, tattooed hand clasped his shoulder lightly, and then he really did scream when he realized that it was an unfamiliar, tattooed, and _disembodied_ hand that clasped his shoulder lightly.

There was a surprised chuckle as the rest of the body suddenly reattached itself to the severed forearm, and a tall, dark-haired man in a black-sleeved hoodie and jeans looked down at him with a lazy smirk, whole and thankfully not missing any other body parts. Behind him, halfway in the shadows, loomed a taller, broader blond with a wolfish grin on his face. "Relax, I put all of your body parts back where they belonged, didn't I? And a thanks would be in order, too. I _did_ just save your life."

Usopp felt so very, very tired of the Grand Line and all of its crazy inhabitants right now.

"Thank you for not assembling me with all the creativity of a five-year-old," he said dryly, knowing that even a five-year-old would probably show more kindness to a dismembered human being at their mercy. He decided not to dwell on it, because like Mr. Canche had told him, people could get used to anything on this horrible ocean. "Anyway…I'm grateful that you came to our rescue, but who are you?"

The man grinned wider, and Usopp noticed the dark shadows under his eyes seemed just a bit more pronounced. "I should be asking that question of you, friend. What kind of an idiot makes himself defenseless in the middle of a battle? No, better yet, answer this: what were you doing picking a fight against a veteran member of the North Blue military?"

"A what?" Usopp's mind was reeling; there were so many questions that this man's retort raised. "Who are you calling an idiot? It wasn't even a battle; I was just trying to save-"

0N1907 gave a soft groan and twisted his fingers into the fabric of his sleeve, and Usopp was suddenly reminded of how badly off he was. "O-oi, are you okay?"

He muttered something so quietly that it took all of Usopp's focus to hear him, and yet he still didn't understand. Usopp tried to follow along before he realized that he was speaking in a different language. _He probably doesn't even know it; he's so out of it right now._ "Hey, I'm not sure you realize this, but we can't understand you."

0N1907 looked even more confused, and his fingers slowly loosened their grip on Usopp's shirt. He was dangerously close to collapsing. Hoodie Man sank down next to them and grabbed his hand, his fingers encircling his thin wrist firmly while he counted down a pulse for him.

"He needs a doctor," Usopp said, craning his neck to look up and down the streets for that familiar pale lavender crown among the pedestrians crowding around them now. "But I…I don't see the Director anywhere."

"Let me help him," Hoodie Man offered with a gesture of his hands (still thankfully attached). Usopp was keeping a stern eye on them, just in case. "I'm a doctor."

"Thank God," Usopp sighed, ready to hand the man over to more capable hands. That sickening feeling in his chest was only getting worse the weaker 01907's state became. He was already in such a bad condition that Usopp kept seeing flashes of Sanji in his place, and that was enough to leave a foul, burning taste in the back of his throat. "Please, just _please_ do everything you have to in order to help him."

Hoodie Man nodded slowly. "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise…but are you sure you don't know his language? Because I'm not certain I'll be able to get through to him like this."

"Ugh, are you kidding me?" The blond man in the shadows gave a twisted grimace of exasperation. "Just knock the bastard out and get it over with. You can patch him up later, right?"

"I need to ask him some questions first, Bellamy," he replied evenly, though Usopp could see his knuckles turning white as he clenched them in his lap. "This might be what we were looking for…fine, what _I_ was looking for. I don't know why you're still tagging along."

"Because you're stuffy and boring and it's fun to mess with you, and also that's my dangerous vial of mystery stuff you took from me." Bellamy folded his arms over his chest and glared at him, but Hoodie Man gave him no further reaction. "Tch, it's not like it's that hard to pick up on what he's saying; I understand parts of it. Sounds like something up in the deep north…Northbound, maybe."

Usopp was sure that his face brightened up immediately, but he didn't care how eager he looked. He just wanted someone to take care of this man already. "You can? Really? Could you translate for us?"

"Hold on, wait a second." Hoodie Man narrowed his eyes at Bellamy. "How do you know what he's speaking?"

"Eh, my old man was a trader up in The Northbound, and I guess I can kinda pick up on a little bit. If I manage to talk to this guy, will you let me punch his lights out?"

"No," Usopp snapped, pulling 0N1907 away from Hoodie Man and Bellamy. "You guys are both crazy and I'm done trying to deal with crazy today. All I wanted was to get help for someone who really needs it, and if you won't give us any, then we'll find it on our own."

"We won't hurt him, I promise." Hoodie Man's eyes didn't exactly look softer, but he seemed genuine in his concern, almost apologetic. "I mean it, I've never offered a helping hand with ulterior or underhanded motives."

Usopp glared but nodded hesitantly. "I'll hold you to it, Hoodie Man."

Bellamy snorted, and Hoodie Man's tan skin definitely darkened along his cheeks and nose. "That's…okay, fine. We have an agreement. Bellamy, figure out what he's saying and maybe get him to talk in the Common?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." The blond drew closer to them, furrowing his brow as he listened to 0N1907's stilted mumbles. He offered an awkward response of his own, and then 0N1907's eyes widened in horror.

His fist connected with Hoodie Man's jaw with a perfect crack, and then Usopp and Bellamy found themselves dragging the two men away from each other before either of them could hurt the other.

"…w-what…what did you tell him?" Hoodie Man yelped, clutching his face with both hands.

Bellamy shrugged. "What you wanted, I guess? I just said that you wanted to cut him open and maybe do some crazy medicine in there, but that you would put all of him back where he belonged, probably. What?"

Usopp and Hoodie Man scowled at him darkly. "Not. Helping."

Hoodie Man blinked his eyes tiredly and ran his hand along his reddened cheek in slow, gentle circles. "Look, people don't take kindly to that sort of 'helping hand', okay?"

"He also goes by a number as his name, which means he's probably been experimented on before, from what I've learned on this island." Usopp glanced down at 0N1907, who was glaring daggers at all of them. This wasn't going as he had expected, and he really needed to find the others, too. Were they even okay? What if Prussian had gotten to them? Would he find them alive? He didn't have time to waste with nonsense. "Can you try again in a way that isn't menacing and uncomforting?"

"Fine, I guess. You're both so boring." Bellamy rubbed his forehead and stumbled over a new response, and though it sounded much like 0N1907's language, they could see that both of them were struggling to understand each other. "Project's endgame…k-key? Open keys…no, wait, the key unlocks, right? Damn it, I'm good at this."

"Focus, Bellamy," Hoodie Man warned him.

"Yeah, I know. Okay…something-something about Key timeout, I think. Wait, he's noticed that he's talking in the wrong language. A dead language? Hey, can you talk in the Common or are you still all rattled up?"

"…I…can m-manage," 0N1907 croaked, though he looked no better than before. If anything, he actually looked worse. "Took too many…hits to the head, probably. Was I speaking Vonefjorsk?"

Hoodie Man's eyes widened, and a strange grin spread across his face. "From Vonefjoen? Really?"

He smiled faintly. "That's the one."

"I'd heard about them, that they've been an extinct people for at least two centuries. " Hoodie Man leaned in closer, studying 0N1907's bloodstained face like an archaeologist searching for ancient secrets or, more probable, like a researcher eying a new specimen on the dissection table. "You know, if you don't mind me saying, that practically makes you a relic of sorts."

"Oi, don't call the old man old!" Usopp interjected, wondering why he felt offended on the man's behalf. He didn't even know the guy, or whether he even had a name underneath that 0N1907 codeword. It still didn't sit right with him, though.

The man's smile never wavered, but there was a sharp edge to his voice. "Flevance, is it? That makes you something of a newer relic, doesn't it?"

Hoodie Man stiffened, and for a moment Usopp thought he would fly into a rage; there was something dark and thunderous in his eyes that worried him. But then he returned 0N1907's tight smile and laughed. "Fair enough, I deserved that. Trafalgar Law, newer relic to your…less new relic. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister…?"

"0N1907," he coughed, clapping his hand over his mouth for a moment. Usopp was sure that he saw a trickle of blood on the inside of his palm before he dropped his hand away, hidden from sight. "Sorry for being such a bastard; I shouldn't have gone that far."

Trafalgar Law raised his brow and smirked. "What's there to apologize for? We're square as far as I'm concerned. Considering that ours is a historic, technically impossible meeting, I'd say you've more than made up for it, Mr. Relic."

0N1907 tried to suppress a laugh, to no avail. At first, it was a manageable chuckle, with the occasional cough into his fist as he tried to calm down. But when he started struggling to breathe, Usopp realized that something was wrong with him. He clutched his stomach, face twisted in pain and coughing violently, and it became evident that he was suffering from much more than his visible injuries.

Law's face shifted from amusement to seriousness quickly enough to give a person whiplash; his brows knit together as they moved 0N1907 to his side, waiting out the worst of his coughing fit until he was breathing a little steadier, if not easier. As he quieted down slowly, Law looked him over, seeming to be deep in thought. "I can stop the bleeding here, but we need to get him some real treatment soon. There's internal damage, from the looks of it, and I don't like the sound of that cough."

"Me too," Bellamy agreed. "It's making my throat feel raw just listening to it."

Law shot him a look. "Come on, you're going to help me move him. We'll head back down that side street from earlier to avoid the crowds. Usopp, do you have to leave?"

Usopp knew that he probably looked restless and antsy with the way he kept looking over his shoulder back in the direction he assumed the plaza was located. "I…yeah, I do. My friends…I need to go back and find them before that Prussian decides that they're a good replacement for him."

He nodded quietly at 0N1907, feeling a twinge of guilt for abandoning him just as quickly. Not abandoning, he told himself firmly, just leaving him with someone who could actually help him. "Take care of him, please. Don't let him die."

Law nodded. "Come find me on the lower docks by that place…there's a sign that says 'Kioji: Loading Vehicles Only' at the bottom of the bank. We'll be in the yellow ship."

Usopp muttered a soft thanks and turned to leave.

"Wait, Longnose. You're with Strawhat, right?"

He froze, afraid to turn around and look at the expression on Law's face. Was this going to backfire on him spectacularly after all? What if Law was a Marine, or a bounty hunter? What if he was a pirate but decided that their bounties were worth the risk? What if he tried to hurt them? They had already gone through so much; the last thing they needed was another complication.

Bellamy's brash voice broke the silence between them. "It's nothing like that, Longnose. We just heard rumors that he landed on this island a while ago. It makes sense that whatever he's after, his crew would be in the middle of all the shit going down, right?"

He closed his eyes and smiled. That pretty much summed it up perfectly, to be fair. And what did that matter when Luffy was coming? He was here, actually on this island. _Physically here._ Usopp had never felt so much relief before in his life, but even that was clouded by his fear of Law's intentions. "Yeah, I'm with him. What's your deal with him?"

"Nothing," Law said simply. "I just know him from his poster, that's all. Do you want us to track your crew down for you?"

"…they're probably headed over right now. If you see them, send them my way; I'll send up a timed flare above the central plaza here. Tell them that we're all okay for now and for them not to worry and…"

He thought about the message that he was leaving them, and about all of the fear and worry that they had probably suffered while he and Franky were gone. He remembered the relief that he'd felt at finally reaching their friend and finding he was alive. He thought about what he told his mother as she died, holding her hand and praying that, somewhere in her smiles, his lies had placed a little hope. "Tell them that we finally have Sanji, safe and sound. We're all coming back soon. Together."


	29. The Drowning Well: Jutonstaithe Beneath the Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staithe Wharf dies a melancholy way, with darkness and black water and a little bit of sunrise at the very end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been about thirteen months since I started this story, and reaching a point like this one is kind of a big deal to me. Right now a lot of stuff might seem confusing, but it's because this got a whole lot bigger and more complicated than I ever expected.
> 
> I won't go into what I did and didn't plan to do, but this plot has definitely changed a lot from where it first began. It may keep evolving, but I hope it never stops being interesting and unique to you. As my readers, I just want to thank you for sticking by this story for so long. It's not easy reading through nearly 200k words (and I am fast approaching that milestone), and I really appreciate the effort you've made if you've come this far (or haven't. that's okay too).
> 
> Either way, this is the last chapter of the year. I hope you enjoy it.

Luffy was unconvinced.

It wasn't that he didn't trust the sniper's word; Usopp could speak more truth in a single lie than anyone could in a thousand words. Luffy _knew_ him better than that.

It wasn't that he didn't trust this man's word, either. From the well-earned strength hidden beneath a lanky frame clothed in yellow and black to the tense, picky movement of tattooed hands, Trafalgar Law looked to be an interesting sort, and he made it a habit to mix with interesting sorts of things. Add to that the good, bright gleam in his gaze (a gleam that made the shadows under his eyes stand out even on his dark skin), and he almost wanted to ally himself with the man just to see what happened. Maybe after this whole Staithe Wharf thing was done and over with…

Afterwards. There was something more important than adventure and excitement, no matter how it called to him. That lady and her stupid guards wanted something that was his, and now he was hearing things about how she had gotten her hands on what she wanted already. It didn't help that her men weren't even fighting them anymore; they just fled further and further into the city, using the twisting alleyways and streets to avoid Luffy and his crew. Robin suspected that they were hiding behind the citizens of this place, who watched them from the doorways and windows of their crowded homes along the winding street. Zoro muttered the word "cowards" under his breath and sheathed his swords. No one dared attack the guards.

Luffy watched the last of the them retreat under a dark archway, and the sound of a shallow series of splashes confirmed what he already knew. They were headed to the next island, and the Thousand Sunny had been left back on the beach of the outer island. Finding a new boat to follow them across was going to be difficult; half the docks on this city-island were gone or disabled by the men before they left.

He looked back to Law with a tilt of his head. "So all I have to do is get to the middle island to find my crew, right?"

"Geone is right across the water," Law affirmed, nodding towards the dark grey mass just barely visible through the early morning fog. "I'd take you, but I have other pressing matters to attend to. There's a virus-"

"We know."

Law blinked in confusion at him, and then he looked over Luffy's shoulder when he realized where the new voice had come from. Chopper stared back apologetically.

"It's not a naturally occurring disease, as far as a virus is naturally occurring. Someone made this, possibly out of some sort of molecular structures from a common source, whatever that might be." Chopper wrung his hands as he studied Law's face for something. "Have you or your crew been infected?"

Law shook his head. "I'm here because this man-" he nodded at his companion "-crossed paths with me and had with him a curious looking vial. When I heard where he got it from, I couldn't help wanting to investigate. What do you know about this?"

"I know that I can cure it," Chopper replied, looking at Luffy as though asking whether he should continue. He just shrugged and watched them quietly, trying to keep his impatience low and under control. He wanted to know about the cure, too; Sanji probably needed it now more than ever. His friend's face flashed before his eyes, feverish and twisted in pain. He felt his hands sting at the memory of reaching for him before the poison ruined them.

That was what bothered him the most about this island and its cities. Maybe the others didn't notice it, but while he was fighting the infection over the past few days, Luffy had become aware that there was more to the poison and the virus and Sanji's part in this so-called "Project" plot. And that wasn't even counting the abandoned park on the barrier island (which was a whole different kind of nightmare). There was a reason for the Devil Fruit users' ban, and he could see it in the eyes of the cities' inhabitants. They didn't run scared or protest the invasion of pirates and criminals on their home island; they just looked resigned.

The whole place felt like a graveyard, dead and old and angry, and the people looked it, too. He thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but when he saw the others react to the cities, he knew it had to be the Fruits. His crew could feel it, minus Zoro, who showed no signs of having noticed anything out of the ordinary. Thaddeus and his crew looked as oblivious as he did, even while standing in ankle-deep water as dark as rock. They frowned at seeing how sluggish and weak he and the others were after sloshing deeper and deeper into the cities, but Luffy knew when they asked him what was wrong that they were blind to the black water he was glaring at.

HQ and her goons were something he could fight against. They were physical, they could be beaten down as many times as it took to satisfy him. They could be hurt. But _this_ …he knew that he had to get to Sanji and get everyone out of here as soon as possible. That was his goal for now, and then he would focus on making someone pay for everything that had happened on this island. He clenched his hands tightly and let out a quiet hiss of pain at the aggravation of his healing skin.

Brook's comment drew his attention away from the hungry waters lapping at his bare ankles, and he found himself looking straight at Bellamy the Hyena on the other side of the street. The man fixed him with a bitter sort of stare, but he made no move to challenge him or anything. Whatever kind of rematch or revenge he could have wanted, Luffy was grateful that he realized that now wasn't the time for it.

He nodded at the limp form in his arms and narrowed his eyes at the two men. "What's your deal with Sardoc? I didn't know he had a crew."

"He's not one of my own," Law answered, looking like he was testing the waters. Luffy didn't know why; he wasn't making his disgust hard to see. Sardoc may not have been the one who planned for Sanji's death or his kidnapping (Khalashtrogos was at his side for _now_ ), but he had played his part well enough, and Luffy felt nothing but a nauseating fire in his stomach at the thought of that man's smug expression when he admitted how he had directed the cannonfire at Sanji's cell. That he was now a crumpled, bleeding heap in Bellamy's grasp earned him no sympathy at all.

"Why is he with you?" He echoed Brook's question, feeling all the more exhausted at the tight anger in his mouth.

"Your friend asked me to take care of him."

Now Luffy was certain that his trust in Law was badly misplaced. "You're lying. Usopp wouldn't-"

"They were fighting together," Law insisted, although his expression faltered a bit. It could have just been the water at his feet; he looked as drained as Luffy felt, and he wondered whether the man was also a Fruit user. He looked back at Bellamy and shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know much about him, but I know as a doctor when someone needs my help. Whether or not you like him is none of my business nor my concern."

He opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, thinking. Usopp wasn't there when Sardoc attacked his crew. He wouldn't know, then. And maybe he hadn't killed Sardoc after the man showed his face on the Sunny, but that had more to do with Luffy's usual way of revenge and payback. Still, it wasn't in his nature to intentionally get in the way of someone trying to do a kindness to another, even if it was someone he considered an enemy.

The air exploded suddenly, and everyone looked towards the crouching mass that was Geone in the fog. There was a thin, stark beam of light that shot straight up into the sky, and then it filled the horizon with a brilliant orange glow that illuminated even the darker shadows around their island. "Usopp…"

"That's the flare he promised." Law frowned quietly at him, looking pensive. "I wasn't lying, though I can tell you probably knew already. Does this change what you think of him?"

Luffy thought about Usopp and Franky, who had risked everything to go back to save Sanji. He wondered about Nami and if she had managed to get to him yet, too. He remembered Sanji's face the last time he saw him, through tears of pain and shock, and the festering wounds on his hands when he realized that he had lost the ability to touch him anymore. He thought about all of the frustration and helplessness that the crew felt at losing their comrades, one by one by one. He felt all of those things, and he found that there wasn't anything else left over.

"Hey, you two can talk about Sleeping Beauty here all you want, but the thing is he's fast going." Bellamy scowled at Luffy. "Trust me, I know when a person is dying, and this one's not gonna last long enough for you to decide whether you like him or not."

Luffy looked down at Sardoc's ghostly grey skin and ran his hand along the brim of his hat, tugging it down just enough so that no one could see his eyes. His expression was his alone to know.

"I hate him," he said finally, turning his back on Law and the others. Up ahead, visible between the buildings that lined the street they were on, Usopp's flares dripped down towards the earth in a bright arc of light and sparks. "Don't let him die."

He left without another word, making the slow and exhausting march through the flooded streets of Staithe Wharf's Kioji district because it was the only thing he could do. He didn't order the others to follow him to Geone. They followed because it was their crewmates out there in the middle of all that chaos and fighting, and they deserved to risk their lives by choice alone. The Lathos Pirates followed of their own will, too; he never once looked Thaddeus' way or said a thing to him. It wouldn't have been fair of him to do that. Sanji was his alone to protect, his and the crew's…even if he hadn't been able to do that before when it really counted.

His hands ached so much.

* * *

Franky's face was flooded with relief in the blinding light of the flare, and Usopp thought he saw a glint of tears on his cheeks before the cloud of smoke bore down on them. As the residue slowly cleared away, he felt two strong arms wrap around him and lift him off the ground into a desperate hug.

"I thought that bastard had killed you," he choked, and Usopp realized what it must have looked like to everyone watching the scene not even half an hour ago. Prussian bearing down on him with a deadly sword and deadlier intent, a sudden flash, and then, no trace of either Usopp or the battered 0N1907 on the bloodstained ground. He knew that he would have lost it at that point, had it happened to Franky or any one of his friends.

He sighed quietly and hugged him back. "I'm fine, just shaken up. So is 0N1907, somewhere back on Kioji."

Franky pulled back and shook his head. "But how-? He ran you straight through!"

Usopp realized that he wasn't so sure himself. Law had mentioned something about displacement and alternate planes and spheres or something, but as to how any of that worked…well, his guess was as good as anyone's.

"Um…Hoodie Man saved me," he said, gesturing at the area he assumed Law and Bellamy were now.

He received a deadened stare in return for his explanation. Franky looked back at the blood splatters on the ground where Usopp had vanished, and then in the shipyards' general direction. "…thank you, Hoodie Man."

"Never mind that," Usopp said, glancing around at the half-collapsed entrance to the ruins, or what was left of them. "What happened here?"

"About that…" Franky looked at Slate, who was slumped against a crumbling slab of wall near the tower that had been knocked over during Prussian's fight with 0N1907. The guard glared at them wearily, clutching his side where a substantial amount of blood darkened his clothes and dripped to the ground. "Prussian flipped his lid when you disappeared. The Director flipped harder."

He frowned, searching the plaza for any sign of the two in question. "Okay? But where are they?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Slate growled, attempting to stagger to his feet using the wall as support. "He killed her, and we did nothing, and now they're gone for good."

Franky frowned. "Oi, get down. I just sewed you back together!"

"Yeah, you did a piss-poor job of it," Slate retorted, hissing through his teeth as he slid back down the wall. "I told you to go after them, didn't I?

"You had a steel bar through your ribcage," Franky snapped. "Was I supposed to just leave you for the next poor chump to come by and fix up?"

"I was handling it fine on my own, you blathering moron. It was your goddamned steel bar in the first place, anyway."

"Yeah, because people handle having metal scrap shoved through their innards on a daily basis just fine."

"Can someone please tell me what happened to the Director?" Usopp said, raising his voice just a pitch past shrill and horrified. If they were lying or exaggerating about Prussian having killed her, then _he_ was going to start flipping lids. "Why in the world did she try to fight him?"

Franky looked at him reluctantly. "I'd never seen anyone so ready to tear into someone like that. She didn't stand a chance against him, though. Slate tried to stop her, to stop him…but Prussian-"

"He broke her neck." Slate grunted, pushing himself away from the wall. He looked ready to keel over from the effort alone. "It…looked clean, but with the Chief involved, it's hard to say if she'll get the chance to recover."

_Her neck…_

He was hiding the urge to be really, really _sick_ all over himself, but judging by the looks on Franky's and Slate's faces, he wasn't doing a good job of it. Shaking himself off mentally, Usopp pointed at the ruins. "Fine, we'll go after them, wherever they went. But we need to know what Prussian's deal is. Why threaten and kill her? Isn't he supposed to protect the Project and everyone involved in it?"

"He's a lot more complicated than that," Slate said. "He's not even from the island at all, so his loyalties are hard to pin down."

"Basically he hates everyone," Franky drawled dismissively. "That's all I need to know. That and he tried to kill you, and possibly Sanji. We're taking him down."

"Fine," Usopp said, wondering why his legs suddenly felt so cold. He swore he could feel pooling water at his feet. "But we get him some help first."

"I don't need-" The guard trailed off, and Usopp felt that chill run down his back. He knew the others felt it, too. They blanched simultaneously, and a look of horror dawned on their faces as the sound of rushing water surrounded them.

All around the island, the lake began to reach upwards into the streets and alleys, and a thin film of water formed at their feet on the flat plaza floor. Bellows as deep as the ocean itself echoed across all five islands, drawing curious passersby and civilians out into the flooded streets, and the water boiled and bubbled furiously around the cities. The island gave another shudder, long and keening, before the water began to overtake it completely.

"The base…" Slate glanced over his shoulder at the outer island, northward. "They'll be flooded in. _The Quarters will go first!_ "

Franky didn't even wait for a request or a demand; he ripped the portable transponder out of Slate's pocket and began shouting into it as soon as the line picked up. He grabbed the guard by the arm and dragged him away from the plaza with all the intention of getting him to safety. Slate argued, of course, and he struggled to get free to head towards Base AAGE, but there was no delusion that they would ever be able to reach them in time before the island sank under the weight of the water. Their best bet was sending them a distress call and hoping that they made it out alive.

"Dammit, Slate! Stop fighting me, it's useless!" Franky shot Usopp a brief look. "Find them, Longnose. Don't you dare die on me either."

Usopp nodded and whirled around, sprinting towards the narrow opening in the ruins, all that was left of the grand arching entrance hall that he and Sanji had relaxed in front of the day they had come to the Inner Cities.

It had been an unusually warm evening, with a balmy wind blowing off the sea from the east, like a souvenir of home. Usopp had worked on some adjustments to one of his smaller slingshots, mind filled with memories of Syrup Village and his mother's laughter as she watched her son totter after Yasopp while he headed to the field to train. The ricochet and _bang-bang_ of his father's target practice punctuated his thoughts as he worked. Sanji's thoughts had been full of dreams and hopes, his nose buried in a book about maps and navigating, and he had been deaf to everything but the sounds of his sea from underwater. He had dreamt of every fish and sea creature in the world, awake and lucid.

Now, as the sea threatened to swallow those dreams whole, that day could not have been further from Usopp's mind.

* * *

Nami glanced up at the ceiling as another tremor brought a shower of blue and grey dust down on their heads, cutting her conversation with the Assistant short. She felt the Assistant move away (a little) from the edge of the crevice in the ground.

She refused to budge an inch.

Since Sanji disappeared into the gap, the glow in the room had brightened to the point where it hurt to look at anything but the hole in the floor. It looked like all of the light was swallowed up by that void, and she wondered how Sanji was faring in such a dark and lonely place. She was tempted to follow after him, but the Assistant had handcuffed her and held her at knifepoint with a steely, watchful gaze to boot. Nami didn't doubt her resolve to use that thing on her at the slightest provocation, if her staunch and devout loyalty to HQ and the Project was anything to go by.

"Don't even think about it," the Assistant warned, and Nami raised her cuffed hands in appeasement. It didn't seem to settle her nerves.

The gloomy shadow of a woman stood up and towered over her menacingly, though Nami knew if she got to her feet, the Assistant would be more than a head shorter than her. She held on to that knowledge to keep from being intimidated by the woman. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play the little empty-headed beauty, girl. Your illicit paramour isn't around to protect you anymore."

Now she really _was_ confused (and a little offended). "Protect me? What's that supposed to mean?"

The Assistant looked especially pleased at getting a reaction out of Nami, and her lips curled into a smug smile as she leered down at her. "It truly reveals the depths of that boy's stupidity that he trusted an enemy without the slightest hesitation. But then again, it turned out all the better for my Master, didn't it?"

"You…" Nami would have fallen to the ground if she weren't sitting down already; her head spun fearfully. "HQ's not down there, are they?"

"No one comes out of the Blue Room alive," the Assistant said in an echo of Sardoc's warning. Her pale eyes were blinding in the light cast off the walls of this place. "It was never HQ's plan to speak to him, but to retrieve the core of the Key from his body. The Blue Room can have the shell afterwards, of course."

All thought had ceased for Nami…all rational thought, anyway. There was a terrifying shrill buzz in her ears, a pang in her throat like swallowing glass, and her eyes wouldn't stop streaming tears. She remembered throwing herself at the void, caught around the middle by the Assistant and dragged away to the sounds of someone's inconsolable sobbing (she found out later that it was her own). Several more hands grabbed her, restraining her even as she fought to break away from them, and the Assistant called for more guards, a trace of fear in her voice.

Nami didn't care. She screamed and bit and threw every manner of blow that she could, and at the point where they broke her leg, she didn't know whether her anguish or her anger was the greater, but the pain was nothing in comparison. They finally let her go at the Assistant's request, deciding that if she wanted "to throw herself to die with the little rat, then let her. It's none of our business anymore."

There were bits and pieces of conversation floating around her; she only caught a few of them, but the gist of it was that they were abandoning the Blue Room along with her. HQ's orders, apparently. They had gotten what they wanted, after all.

She listened halfheartedly as their footsteps faded away, focusing the rest of her energies into dragging herself across the cold stone floor. Her gaze was fixed on the Blue Room, on closing the distance between her and her goal, on reaching Sanji. It was hard with the heavy cuffs around her wrists and the useless weight of her leg behind her, but inch by slow inch, she drew closer. _I'm not leaving without you, Sanji…_

Around her, the cavernous walls of the chamber began to drip and shudder with saltwater, and the Blue Room vibrated with a shriek that filled the hall from top to bottom.

* * *

The only sound in his ears was the rush of cool water as he plunged into the heart of the void, a sudden roar that was mournful and foreboding all at once. He was reminded of the times that he dove into the sea to fish one of the Devil Fruit users out of the water (usually Luffy), and as his descent slowed to a comfortable halt, he noticed that he was indeed in the center of a pool of water that felt nearly as vast as the ocean itself. Before he could wonder how such a large body of water fit within the parameters of Geone's ruins or even the Inner Lake, Sanji came to a startling realization: he was trapped.

His arms and legs were free, of course. He could move them through the heavy pressure of the water around him, slow and measured movements that came as no surprise for someone unafraid of (if not used to) dangerous depths. But his actual intention, to get back up to the surface of this water for air, was stopped. No matter what he tried or how powerful his kicks and strokes, he found himself no closer to the surface than when he had started.

He kept his cool; this was nothing new for him. Air deprivation, even with lungs as thoroughly abused by cigarette smoke as his, was something he had learned to suffer with a quiet patience as he sought to fix the problem. Setting his jaw, he threw his hands straight out and felt around, hoping to find a wall, a barrier, something that would give him an estimation of how big this place was. He swam for what had to be fifty meters unhindered both ways, and there was still no sign of an end to the dark waters around him. Honestly, it wasn't very far, but he had been underwater for only a few minutes when he felt a deliberate tug at his chest…no, from _within_ his chest. He only had to wait mere moments when he felt it again, more insistent this time.

Sanji bit his lip when he recognized the reaction that followed the first: his body wanted nothing more than a breath of air. Whatever it was squeezing at his chest, it was reminding him that he had a desperate lack of oxygen and no access to it. He winced and tried to resist, but the urge was overwhelming. Even clamping his hand over his mouth was useless; he fought through a few spasms before he couldn't bear it anymore. Ice-cold water flooded his burning lungs as he doubled over, clutching his chest in pain. The water around him bubbled and frothed with his agitation and fear.

He struggled to hold what little breath he had left, feeling the water reach down his throat with icy fingers to choke him from the inside out, holding him still like tendrils were tangled around his arms and legs. It was all he could do to keep from completely working himself up in a panic. _Air, air…I need to breathe!_

'You don't breathe in The Blue Room. Now be calm, and _see_.' The voice thrummed through his veins, needle-thin and childlike. Somewhere in the back of his terrified mind, the command formed and with total deliberateness, Sanji blinked his eyes at the cold, watery darkness before him.

And there stood a woman (as much as one could stand in the middle of an underwater cavern) who, besides the attractive reddish-brown color of her eyes, looked unremarkable in every way. Her features were so plain and normal that she gave off the illusion of prettiness, but there was nothing exceptionally striking about any single detail. In fact, dressed in the austere cut of her pale, olive-green uniform, she looked like an old photograph left out in the sun too long.

"Good, you can see me." Her lips, painted a neutral nude color, quirked into a practiced smile. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Skeleton Key."

He recognized that voice from the regular announcements over the base's intercom system.

"HQ?" His heart was still thundering in his ribcage, but the pain that speaking brought him was enough to center his thoughts for a moment. "…I wish I could say the same about you."

"A relief to my sensibilities. The feeling is not unrequited, admittedly."

Sanji narrowed his eyes at her, fighting to quell the panic in his lungs. Each time he opened his mouth it hurt to not breathe. But he wasn't dead, at least. "Where are the rest of you?"

Her smile became a little more artificial. "But what a rude question, Key. You know I am only the one."

Just one? Why had she always been referred to as 'they'? He had assumed that HQ was a group of people, the Directors of the Project. Something told him that his next question was a foolish one. "What happened to the other Directors?"

"That is none of your concern," she snapped. Then, the line of her brow smoothed out again, and she smiled. "I am all of HQ, and you will address me as they, Key. I know what you are thinking and…"

A chuckle. "Well, I couldn't imagine the Gentleman's issue to be so close-minded, but not everything is hereditary, is it? You have his cleverness, at the very least. Try not to mar it with your pathetic ignorance."

He would have been taken aback by her statement had she been anything other than a woman, but even so there was an edge to her voice that stung him. Their voice. It was a strange term of address, but he would do anything to please a lady, even one as heartless and cold as HQ. But he wasn't offended, of course, especially not here. In the paralyzing coldness of the black water around him, he could only feel the acute pain of his burning lungs, the throbbing ache in his oxygen-deprived mind. His vision swam horribly. If this was how badly he felt, then he couldn't imagine how sh-… _they_ were holding up. They had been in here longer, hadn't they?

It struck him as he studied their serene expression through the watery film before his eyes. "You aren't here, are you?"

The sly glint in their eyes said everything.

"You lured me here," he realized, stiffening under the weight of that knowledge. He had come down because HQ was supposed to have been here. Their presence (but what had happened to _them_ , that there was only _she_ ) here meant that it was safe, a sort of fragile assurance that he would be alright. Now, that promise was shattered like glass in his hands. He gritted his teeth. "I should have realized it was a trap. You wouldn't…ha, I believed that you wouldn't risk coming in if it wasn't safe, and you proved me right."

"Not in the way you had hoped, I assume."

"No," he agreed, and the water tightened its cold fingers around his throat. "Because apparently the only thing you want is my death."

HQ chuckled. "Come now, the Key being afraid for its own survival?"

"Sardoc said that no one comes out of this alive," he choked, clutching his throat and silently begging for some relief. HQ didn't look inclined to offer any, wherever they were right now. If they could project their own image in this cold dark space, then he imagined that they certainly had the power to get him out of here as well. The offer did not come, either way.

Their eyes lit up in surprise. "He remembered? Hm, it seems we didn't give him enough credit."

"So he was right? You set me up to die here?" He was more afraid of the sensation of drowning than the actually dying part, probably because it was so insistent and unending. It _hurt_.

"If you want to overlook the main purpose of using this cumbersome old thing to destroy your life, then the answer is a definite yes."

"What's the point of this? You had Prussian try to kill me once, why not have him finish the job earlier when he cornered me?"

HQ scoffed lightly, looking anything but exasperated at the question. Sanji was starting to suspect that they acted out those little mannerisms just to appear a little more human. It didn't really work. "Death is always so heavy-handed when it comes to him. I need your body intact for the Project. Besides, he already has his pound of flesh in the north; he's been more than rewarded for his part in the Project."

"And what about my part?"

"Your part is simple: you come up to The Blue Room and turn in your status as the Key. Unfortunately you won't survive, but at least you'll have lived up to your usefulness, which is more than what the Zeros can say." Their eyes narrowed in obvious amusement, as though there was a joke in there that only they could see. "If they were even around in their original forms to say it."

The Zeros again. Sanji worked up the strength for another question, blinking away the black spots dancing in his vision. "What happened to them? Did the Project make them like-?"

He choked and sputtered, heaving desperately for air or a little relief from this endless drowning. He would have swallowed water gladly if it meant passing out. HQ watched impassively for the better part of a quarter-hour until his fit died down, by the end of which he was convinced that they really didn't have any emotions and were something like a Pacifista. How could someone be so unfeeling? Hell, he would accept mocking laughter from them at this point.

It wasn't too late; he had a chance yet. Sanji forced himself to calm down, ignoring the tight pain in his chest and the water flooding his throat and lungs, and he asked a question that he was sure HQ couldn't dodge or answer in a circumspect way. He _needed_ this answered.

_"What is the Project?"_

HQ stared, mouth tight and unmoving. Sanji's lungs screamed, and there was a soft murmur of whispers in his mind, possibly a part of hallucinations from lack of oxygen. They couldn't just stay silent; didn't he deserve to know what he was dying for? He didn't want such a meaningless death, not after everything he had gone through to get here. But HQ's silence spoke for them: _you are not worth the efforts of any explanation. You are just the Key, a tool._

He closed his eyes tiredly. So that was it? Not even a hint as to why he was going to drown suspended beneath the surface, far from his friends and family and hopes, weighed down by regrets in the starving waters…

As he lost consciousness, the snatches of whispers sneaking into his ears and tearing at his skin like icicles, he realized something about the strange place he found himself in. Maybe it was the lack of air, rest, and the pure exhaustion that came with pushing himself past limits he didn't even know he had, but he saw the Blue Room for what it was, not as a body of water or a room with a strange hunger, but as the end (or a beginning) of a really, really long descent into ruin and misery. The bottom of a dark well.

* * *

 And this was how it ended:

 

* * *

He found Nami first, and he would have cried at the state they had left her in, but she simply smiled and hugged him so tightly that he (nearly panicked, almost balked) was reminded of the Blue Room only paces behind him. He couldn't leave those chambers quickly enough.

Usopp almost missed them in his rush to get to them, and it was only Nami's yelp as her leg was jostled when he stumbled that called his attention to the pair dripping with seawater and brine. His voice and steps were urgent, his mannerisms battle-tense, but his smile was every bit as relieved and happy as Nami's was. He didn't stop crying all the way back up to the surface, though.

When they walked out onto the ruined plaza of Geone's once-grand heritage site, they stepped out into the ocean, or at least several inches of it. The outer island was gone, and the rest of Staithe Wharf was following gradually. Already the ships on the harbor were drifting towards them, many running aground on the steep embankments that hid just below the surface of the new sea. Usopp scanned the tethered vessels on the bank opposite of Geone, dragging them towards a strange looking ship with the word DEATH written on one side of it. He thought it was fitting, and later he would think it was _very_ fitting, but for now he just accepted it.

He made them stop at the bookstore for Guppy and the Twits, who were more than ready to get out of there. The water didn't bother them one bit; it was the being-locked-indoors-in-a-dusty-bookshop situation that had gotten to them. If the island wasn't sinking, he would have felt guilty for leaving them to shred through the books in their boredom. All he felt right now, as the shop flooded with the rising tide, was a pang of remorse.

He had to let Usopp and Nami lead him through what he was supposed to do next; it was like he was years out of his time, and everything had shot forward out of control in the time that they were separated. In any case, Trafalgar Law was very gentle with Nami as they lifted her up into the ship, and for that he accepted the fact that this man was on their side for now. Usopp was holding his hand out to him, ready to help him up next, when he looked back at the island they were leaving behind.

He ran.

Usopp's shout and Guppy's sobs fell on deaf ears, and though he thought he heard (no, he _knew_ it) the Sunny's engines over the sound of rushing waters over stone and brick, the only thing on his mind was that he was failing yet again. _I can't save them. I have to save them._

HQ's ship stood at the very edge of Geone's half-submerged ruins, and Three and Five were so _close_ , he could just lean out from the top of the crumbling roofs and reach his hand out to them and _touch_ them. He just had to make it there, just a little further. His legs and lungs burned, as waterlogged and soaked as they were, but he pressed onward. There was no way he could stop now, not now.

He was running along the edge of an odd gable on the roof, his balance surviving the slippery slope with impossible ease, when HQ looked across the water at him and smiled, satisfied. He just had time to notice Prussian standing behind her when the pain in his leg exploded and he stumbled, hard. But he refused to fall.

Even so, there was nothing he could do to reach them in time. They were too far gone to be saved, and he stopped at the edge of the roof, which barely peaked out over the water now. A terrible, angry feeling flooded his heaving chest as he stared out at the open, empty sea, void of ships or hope, and he realized just how little had changed in ten years.

The horizon stretched before him like eternity, his stomach as empty as the water beneath his feet, and the wind blew towards the chilly north.

He didn't know how long he waited there, reliving eighty-five days in his head as a reminder of his failings and all the times he had fallen short of his goals. The sun had risen, though, a little. He could tell, even with the sad darkness that hung in the sky, because the Thousand Sunny threw a dark shadow across his tiny little hunk of rock out at sea, and when he looked up at the deck of the ship, his friends were illuminated in a pale grey light, waving and shouting down at him. Despite the emptiness that was eating at his chest, he felt a smile spread slowly and surely on his face. Not everything was alright, not yet, but it was enough to make him push back the pain he had suffered on the island and the horrors he had seen in the Blue Room.

Chopper leapt on him first, and the little reindeer buried his face so deeply into his shirt that he was sure it tore; he smiled and brought him a little closer. Robin was the second one, surprisingly, and he realized that he had never felt her embrace him this way before. Her shoulders were trembling the slightest bit. Nami and Usopp joined in again, and there was Franky's arm around his shoulders somewhere too. He even found himself welcoming Brook's bony embrace, and he found that he had missed the moment where he had started taking the other as a real part of the crew. He had missed a lot on the island.

Zoro's hand on his forearm caught him by surprise, and so did the genuine smile on his face. It made his heart leap into his throat, and he found that he couldn't really say anything in response to that.

He was so caught up in the confusion and relief that he only noticed Luffy (loud, brash, noisy Luffy) when he had wrapped his arms around him. It shocked him when he felt him draw nearer instead of pulling away in pain, and that was when he knew that the nightmare had really ended.

"Welcome back, Sanji," the captain grinned.

Sanji's smile crumbled under the weight of that statement, and for the first time in his living memory, he let himself cry in front of his crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have questions, well...you're supposed to. What happened to Staithe Wharf and the people of the island? Where is HQ taking their people and numbers Three and Five? What did Sanji see in the well of horrors that is the Blue Room? And will the mystery of Project Alleblatt be revealed to the Straw Hats in the end? Find out next time...okay, so seriously, we'll work on those questions in 2015, hopefully, if you haven't been left completely bewildered by this ending. Anyway, thank you.


	30. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace is very fragile after such storms, and the Strawhats look to rest in it as long as possible.

Out on the sea between the Florian Triangle and the Sabaody Archipelago, six ships drifted in the water beneath a warm afternoon sky, spaced about thirteen meters apart or so. They were a motley collection of sea vessels, from the serpentine and sleek to the brave and bold, and the Heart Pirates' ship was something else entirely. As it was, they were the only ships left after the sinking of Staithe Wharf, as all the others had dispersed and fled long before the ocean swallowed the island and its five floating cities whole. That they had chosen to stay after HQ and their people had disappeared with the island said nothing about their loyalties or alliances. Each captain, crew, and ship had their own motives for remaining with the Thousand Sunny's Luffy and his crew, ranging anywhere between the best of intentions to the most selfish.

Not that it made much of a difference to the infamous Strawhat.

Luffy had no problem working with all of them, regardless of what had happened over the course of the last twenty-four hours, or even the past two weeks. As they had a common goal, he didn't care what they planned to do after they had what they wanted; the thought probably didn't even occur to him. Thaddeus was the closest he had to an actual, joint partnership, considering all that they had been through for the sake of friendship. Khalashtrogos was about as trustworthy and well-meaning as a nest of sea serpents, and it was likely that the Pirate Captain and his crew had stayed solely for Luffy's protection against the gimlet-eyed "captain". He had a sour, vicious scowl on his face whenever he looked their way, like he personally resented the mercenary pirates for their part in what happened on the island. It was hard to say what his problem with the Pirate Captain was besides the fact that he had been played for a fool with that false distress call that lured him from the Biles the day that the hospital was attacked. Maybe that was all the reason Khalashtrogos needed to hate the man and his crew.

Trafalgar Law interested him for other reasons, a lot of them based on appearances and feelings, like the sensation in his gut that this man was someone truly special. His curiosity only lit up Luffy's own, and there was something fascinating about a pirate who could put his entire course on hold to investigate a seemingly unimportant object like that tiny vial sitting in his office below deck. A lawless man who was also a doctor and had a helping hand extended to those in need at any moment.

(No one mentioned how he tended to lean towards the man whenever they were in the same room.)

That was how Usopp found him two mornings after Staithe Wharf sank, on the Sunny's deck with the other captains and their various first mates, navigators, and advisors gathered around them. He was uncharacteristically silent, body angled towards Law as he leaned against the ship's railing. Despite not speaking, he drew the conversation to him, listening with no small effort as everyone vied to hold his attention (also not an easy task). His captain's eyes brightened at the sight of him, and Usopp unconsciously braced himself for the-

 _SLAM_.

…yeah, that.

"Luffy, be careful," he griped, wriggling his arms out of Luffy's tight hug so he could massage his aching shoulder. "Ugh, that still hurts…"

Luffy loosened his grip, but he refused to let go of him. His smile, though sheepish, was no less earnest as he tugged Usopp closer to the gathering at the base of the mast. "Come on, we're talking about Staithe and what we're going to do about finding it."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." He glanced at the captains with a nervous grin and lowered his voice. "In private."

"Whatever it is, the rest of us don't mind listening in on it," Bellamy called from the helm where he had made his perch, arms arranged lazily around the spokes on the wheel as he leaned against it. Luffy's eyes narrowed darkly at him, but he said nothing yet. "I didn't take you for someone who keeps secrets, Strawhat."

Usopp cringed and hunched his shoulders involuntarily. He had been hoping to avoid inviting the captains to this particular conversation, at least until he had convinced Luffy to see his point. "U-um, I…"

"He said in _private_ , Bellamy. If it's my crew's business, then it's my crew's business only. Deal with it." Luffy headed down the stairs to the lawn deck, signaling that the matter was closed for discussion. The rest of the group exchanged a series of dubious looks, and Khalashtrogos muttered something that might have been a snub at the Strawhat captain, judging by his first mate's reaction. Bellamy simply fixed a glowering stare on Luffy's back as he left.

Usopp stood frozen before the group, unable to move until Zoro grabbed him by his uninjured arm and dragged him down to join the captain on the lawn. Luffy's expression was lax and unreadable when he stumbled to a halt before him, and there was no trace of his characteristic smile on his face. He felt his cheeks grow warm; he hadn't meant to make Luffy look bad in front of the other captains. "Sorry, Luffy. I didn't think-"

"Don't worry about him," Luffy shrugged. "He's got his own problems to deal with. What did you want to talk to us about?"

He let out a shaky breath, relieved that Luffy wasn't mad at him—he wasn't happy either, but that probably had more to do with having to contend with so many conflicting views and interests. Usually, they wouldn't even bother worrying about that, but with half his crew in various states of recovery and absolutely no idea what had destroyed their closest restocking port, they were in a difficult situation. They had decimated most of the Pirate Captain's stores in the fight precluding the Staithe Wharf Sinking, and it was all that the cooks could do to ration food across five full crews. Mikolo, at the head of the organization, looked as though he never wanted to hear about food plans ever again. Law was helping tremendously with food and medical supplies, but it didn't feel right to ask so much of him, especially when he had already taken on the responsibility of 0N1907's care (a whole different can of worms). In other words, they were sinking as quickly as the five islands themselves, in a more figurative sense of the word.

It was why he wanted to talk to Luffy and Zoro about it, but they had been so wrapped up in talks with the other crews. They wanted to find the island, they wanted to figure out where HQ had gone. They were looking for survivors.

Usopp wasn't opposed to the idea at all. Under normal circumstances, he would have gladly been the once to second it, eventually. So maybe he'd hesitate a little first, but that was logical and not cowardly at all, right? But he hoped with everything in him that someone had survived, _somewhere._

_Those five cities…all those innocent people…_

He clenched his hands into fists. "Before you make your decisions with the captains, I really need to get this off my chest, okay? So hear me out please!"

Luffy and Zoro looked like they didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about, and he didn't blame them. It was all he could to pull together his thoughts into complete sentences:

"Nami's doing much better now, but she's still getting used to her new cast and gets frustrated easily. She threw her crutches at my head and made me carry her down to her office twice already, before _and_ after breakfast. Franky's got a ton of repairs to make after how battered his body got on the island, and we've already used up everything in _both_ our shops. I'm no help with a wrecked shoulder and no weapon, and I know you guys suffered a lot, too! None of this is helping anyone on any of the crews, especially not ours!"

Zoro raised his brow as he stopped to take a breath, winded. "If you think we're weak right now, then just spit it out already. Luffy's not going to-"

"I didn't say that, Zoro!" Usopp couldn't believe the nerve of him. It wasn't what they needed to hear; Luffy would refuse the suggestion on the spot. He would never listen to reason if he thought that they were saying he couldn't protect his own crew. "I was just trying to explain how badly we're doing just waiting here, like sitting ducks in the middle of the Grand Line!"

Well. That didn't come out like he wanted.

Luffty didn't seem to notice either way. He furrowed his brow and glanced up at him from his seat on the floor. "Usopp…you didn't mention Sanji."

"…yeah?" He hadn't expected to be asked about Sanji yet. In fact, he had specifically avoided bringing him up in the first place; it wasn't like anyone was expecting him to contribute to the ship's maintenance and defense so soon after being recovered and brought back to the crew. "I didn't?"

"How is he?"

That was a loaded question, and one that he really wasn't prepared to answer. It brought up unwanted thoughts, like the glimpses of fresh scars and scratches under Sanji's tattered clothes, the exhaustion in his sickly pale skin, signs that he was hurt deeper than Usopp could hope to understand (like two broken fingers on his left hand and what Chopper had said were signs that he had been tortured). That was without remembering the way Sanji lay in his arms, weighing near nothing and broken to the point of death.

(He hated thinking about that one the most.)

It was remembering Sanji's devastated, crumbling smile while he tried to reassure everyone that he was fine, even as he died/wept/the world fell to pieces around his face, knowing that he couldn't do anything about it. Usopp wasn't even able to stop him from responding to HQ's taunts when they were escaping to Law's ship, though it had been nothing more than an empty jab to get under his skin.

_"Leaving these people to their demise, Skeleton Key? Is your own selfish, cowardly life worth more to you? More than Three and Five, who cared enough to try to save you despite owing you no allegiance, no compassion, no pity?"_

Usopp remembered the expression on Sanji's face before he turned around to meet HQ's gaze. How he had suddenly looked incredibly aware of every single person on Staithe Wharf after obediently following Nami and Usopp's lead (he had been so lost and confused when they found him).

_He had never seen Sanji look so wretched before, not even when he had been left to bleed out on the concrete floor back at the base for who knew how long. Blood trickled angrily between his white-knuckled fingers. His shoulders hitched up, like he was holding back a sob, and he whirled around and ran like nothing else existed but that ship and himself. Like he was still fighting alone, and no one could reach him._

_He wondered if Sanji realized that he didn't have to anymore._

Usopp said the only thing he could think of without mentioning all of that because honestly, it wasn't something he thought Luffy and Zoro would understand. They had always been the monstrously strong ones (Sanji, it seemed, had been like that too). "Robin and Brook are sitting with him right now. He hasn't woken up yet."

Luffy nodded. "He's still like that, huh?"

"Yeah," Usopp said, unsure of what 'that' was referring to. "They're on watch while Chopper's working to fix the cure for 0N1907…I-I mean Sardoc. I couldn't believe it when Law discovered he's infected with the same virus. But he should be getting back once Law takes over for him after your meeting. Which…you've made you're decision about already?"

He looked hopefully at Zoro, who frowned and shot a warning glance at the captain. "Luffy, we should be getting back to that. Those bastards are getting prissier by the second over there."

"We should," Luffy agreed, grinning broadly at Usopp before getting back to his feet and heading towards the impatient group at the helm of the ship. "Thanks for the talk, Usopp. It was nice…"

* * *

He couldn't help feeling disheartened; Luffy meant well, he knew. But they were taxing their energies and resources by remaining here in these dangerous, open waters. None of them needed anything more than a little time to rest, and that was something he didn't see happening outside the safety of a secure port.

He watched Luffy march up the stairs, followed by Zoro's firm, sure footsteps, and then he stopped in front of the captains gathered at the helm, planted his fists on his hips, and shouted loud enough for everyone on the decks to hear: _"We are leaving this place to-day! Anyone who has a problem with that can deal with it!"_

The reaction was instantaneous; everyone had an opinion to express, and soon Luffy and Zoro were surrounded by a cacophony of voices and confusion. They just grinned back at Usopp knowingly, and he felt a little ashamed that he had doubted them. He returned the smile sheepishly.

Nami came up behind him with her awkward, clunking gait, and Usopp reached out to snake his arm around her waist. She smiled and threw her arm over his shoulder, dropping one of her crutches in the process. "Told you they would listen to you."

Usopp rolled his eyes and grinned. "Then why didn't you go up to talk to them? Could have muscled your own way easily."

She glared at him indignantly. "Don't mock my plans; this was the best way."

"Right, right…" He helped her hobble over to the swing before doubling back to grab her crutch; she fiddled with it for a bit before leaning it against the wall, where it slid to the ground with a soft thump. It was all she could do to stay balanced on her seat, and Usopp wondered how many painkillers she had been on. Maybe she really shouldn't have been up today after all. "How did this happen, anyway?"

Nami blinked in surprise. "My leg? Oh, it was just me being stupid, like always."

"You don't do stupid things, Nami." He noticed that her hands were clenched white on her lap, and she was avoiding his gaze. "Nami?"

"…for my friends, I guess I do." Nami traced a very familiar scar on the back of her left hand, and Usopp remembered the day she got that particular one. He had the feeling that there was something more to her broken leg than just stupidity.

He leaned back against the wall and said nothing, waiting for her to open up on her own, if she wanted. She sighed deeply and look at him with a tired frown. "I was angry, Usopp. I think I still am."

He nodded slowly, wincing as the rough wooden boards snagged at his hair. "It's about Sanji, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" Nami's gaze drifted down to her cast, where she traced the childish scrawls and drawings that each of them had placed on the cool white plaster. "It was a trap from the start, and I should have figured. I'm actually not surprised, but…Usopp, they laughed about it. I knew they didn't care about him; that's the last thing on their mind. But the way that they treated his life, and the way that the Assistant laughed at him and mocked him because he actually tried to work things out with them…"

When Nami looked up at him, her eyes were burning with tears, bright and angry. "He didn't owe them anything; he could have just chosen to leave, hoping to destroy everything about their stupid Project. He could have chosen revenge. Instead, he walked willingly into that trap because he honestly believed in them, and they mocked him to his face. I felt so incredibly angry for him, and I was scared that they would really have their way."

"That was when they broke your leg for fighting back," he realized in horror.

"Actually, that was just me being stupid." She blushed and ducked her face behind her hands. "I tripped one of them up and he fell on my leg."

"…you're kidding, right?" When she didn't answer, he grinned and leaned his head back against the wall, biting down hard on his lip. It wasn't that he wanted to laugh at her, just that the thought of Nami getting hurt in such a ridiculous and accidental way was almost amusing. He hadn't expected it, to be honest. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm just glad you're alright."

There was a silence between them in which he squeezed her knee gently, and she reached out to place her hand over his. The gesture was simple, but more expressive than either of them could say. It was comfortable. Then, quietly, Nami punched his arm lightly and muttered under her breath, "idiot."

Usopp's smile widened, and he had a response on the tip of his tongue, but then the commotion at the foredeck exploded into chaos. They glanced up at the front of the ship where Luffy was giving Khalashtrogos the most unimpressed look they had ever seen, while Law and Issok struggled to hold Bellamy back as the conversation reached a fever pitch. Everyone else simply talked loudly as though trying to be heard over all of the noise, and it was obvious that the meeting was…not a meeting anymore. They shared a look and wondered just how bad the aftermath of this would be when they went to pick up the pieces.

For the moment, that peaceful interlude was gone.

* * *

Sanji stepped quickly across the cold tiles and closed the door behind him, locking himself in the ship's bathhouse for what he hoped would be a quiet interlude away from any prying attentions. The others were nowhere to be found, but all the same he played it safe. He just wanted to be unseen for now.

Well…he caught a glimpse of one red-rimmed eye in the shadowy reflection on the wall and smiled grimly. Unseen by everyone but himself, to be more specific. Just for now.

His clothes fell to the floor soundlessly, muffled by the darkness that filled the tiny anteroom before the high domed bathhouse. A shudder ghosted down the length of his spine as he took in his filthy, bedraggled appearance in the mirror; the bandages would have to go next, unfortunately. They joined his tattered clothes in a mournful rustle of cloth and gauze at his feet, leaving him nowhere to hide from his reflection.

His skin was an angry canvas of raw and healing scars, from the crisscrossing lines gouged into the skin underneath his ribcage to the blistered burns over his arms and shoulders. There were dark bruises around his neck making a clumsy ring at his throat, and there was the reddish-purple scar above his heart, still throbbing and tender even now that it had mostly healed.

And then there was the mess of his legs.

Numbly, he crossed the threshold and closed the second door behind him, feeling like he was marching into a battle that he wasn't sure he _wouldn't_ lose. The room was so dark and cold, and he ached so much all over. Already, he was struggling to make himself walk towards the empty tub, and his gaze was everywhere but on his scarred body. Avoiding them didn't vanish the knowledge that the scars were still there...that they were there and how he had gotten them.

Cold, black water rose up all around him, and he couldn't move. _He couldn't breathe, oh God_. There was water no matter where he went and it was clawing at him, raking his skin. No, _they_ were in there, dragging him down deeper and _deeper and he couldn't fucking breathe_.

Sanji staggered back into the door with a strangled cry that died in his throat, and he choked on nothing but air. He buried his hands in his hair and tugged hard, fighting back the screams that just wouldn't come. It was only when the door thumped under the weight of his trembling frame that he vaguely realized he had slumped to the floor. Instead of finding comfort in it, he only felt like the cold was seeping faster into his body through the cool solidness of it, shooting up his veins and nerves like ice. He curled up further into himself, desperate for anything to get rid of the numbness that was overtaking him. His heart seemed to pound slowly, like he was hearing it from underwater.

Everything reminded him of that place.

_I'm drowning, I'm drowning, I'm drowning._


	31. Interlude: Sway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain confrontation has been long due and brings out the worst in Sanji as he struggles to find his legs again after Staithe. There is concern wherever he goes, but only the most genuine is the kind that matters.

 

 

 

 

Sanji couldn't say exactly how he washed himself and made it back to the infirmary in one piece, but he suspected that much of the credit for the latter went to Brook. He took one look at Sanji after he dragged himself out of the bathroom and carried him back down without a word. If there was one thing he could have said to him at all during the rest of that silent afternoon, it would have been a heartfelt thank you. _Thank you for overlooking my red eyes, my blotchy face, how badly I'm shaking...for not asking questions I'm not ready for._

Robin worried, he knew, because she helped him into the bed and wrapped him up with the warmest blankets she could find, and then she found his hand and took it in hers with unparalleled gentleness. He was so moved by this that he didn't try to push her away. Touch wasn't something he really wanted right now, but gratitude won out over discomfort, and he dropped off to sleep soon after.

That they didn't bombard him with questions with every time he opened his mouth was a kindness he desperately needed; in fact, they were so accommodating to his requests that he wondered exactly how pitiful he looked right now. But they were gracious and quiet, and he appreciated having their peaceful company over anyone else's. Sanji wasn't sure how he would have handled having Franky's or Luffy's boisterous personalities in this tiny space with him. He just wasn't up to it yet.

Avoiding the others was easier than he had expected: exhaustion and sleep gave him a place to hide away for long periods of time, and the rest of the time they were all occupied with their own business. It definitely sounded hectic on the main deck. Once, Brook caught him glancing at the closed door to the deck and asked him if he wanted to go outside.

Startled, Sanji shook his head and felt his face heat up. He hadn't meant to show any interest in leaving yet. Every time he even thought about getting up and walking out that door, his legs threatened to buckle underneath him, and his stomach roiled horribly. He rolled over and said the constant buzz was giving him a headache and that he was going to sleep.

Apparently convinced that he was telling the truth, Brook turned down the lights and left Robin with him, leaving only long enough to ask the gathering on the deck to quiet down for the night.

Sanji didn't sleep all night for the guilt.

He rose up clean, by some strange miracle or effort that first day that he braved the bathhouse, and yet he felt so filthy and pathetic that he forced himself to go back the next morning. It was brighter at this hour, but Sanji could barely move his reluctant feet when he reached the second door. What scared him the most about the room beyond that door was the size of it; what once was spacious and comfortable now felt hollow and empty. He didn't dare close his eyes in there.

 _It's not the Blue Room_ , he told himself, his fingers trembling as he turned the doorknob. _It's just a bath; I'm not going to-_

-NING I'M DROWNING I'M DROWNING I'M DROW-

Sanji pulled back like he had been burned, bumping into the sink behind him and nearly taking an unintentional dive down the ladder to the library. There were voices down there, Robin's, Nami's and another feminine voice that he couldn't quite place but knew it belonged to one of Thaddeus' people; he was sure that he would have made an impression on the women in the study had he come crashing down in front of them.

 _Don't mind me, ladies. I'm just dropping in._ That managed to get a snort out of him, surprisingly, and less surprisingly it also caught the attention of the women in the library.

"Is anyone up there?" Robin called, standing at the foot of the ladder.

He dropped to the floor and covered his mouth, pulse quickening as she called a second time. Oh God, he hadn't meant to be discovered up here. All he had wanted was a good, proper bath and proof that he was going to be alright. Then again, if he couldn't even face the prospect of talking to his own friends without going into fight or flight mode, then how well off was he really?

Nami's voice drifted up from somewhere near Robin, dismissive and impatient. "It was probably just the ship; we're alone here."

The logical thing would have been to come down the ladder and latch himself on to Nami's arm, lavishing her with as much gusto as he could muster up, and hopefully they would write him off as the same old Sanji again. Why hadn't he answered when Robin called, they would ask. He would chuckle lightly and say-

-oh wait, that wasn't something he felt free to say in front of them. The others? Sure, but 'I'm having a field day with my bowel movements' was practically immoral to mention to the ladies. It was a code of honor.

And so, the honorable prince knight curled up on the floor next to the bathhouse and waited for the library to empty out. God, he felt pathetic.

The calls stopped. They had just settled down at the desk in the center of the room, from what he could hear, but unexpectedly they stood up, chattering blithely with each other, and he heard the door to the library open up as they filed out without preamble.

The last one out, Robin gave a soft pause and murmured, just loud enough for Sanji to hear, "sometimes, we only trick ourselves into thinking that we're alone because it takes less effort. "

_Oh, Robin._

He wasn't stupid; he knew that he wouldn't be able to avoid them forever. That wasn't what he wanted, either. In the heart of it all, he missed them terribly, and nothing could compare to the loneliness he felt at sitting with his back to the infirmary door, listening to Luffy and Usopp chase each other around on the lawn, Chopper wailing after them to _'Please, consider your injuries! At least pretend you tried to rest for a while!_ ' At night sometimes, he swore that he heard Zoro's footsteps stop in front of the infirmary, followed by a long, watchful silence that was broken when he returned to the men's quarters (or wherever the hell Zoro liked to hang around these days). Brook and Robin scarcely made any noise while they kept him company, but outside with the others, the sound of Brook's violin being carefully tuned accompanied Robin's mellow, patient voice as she read aloud to Nami and Franky. He wondered what had brought that new development, but from what he had overheard, the two of them were the worst of the injured and had a long way to go before they were at one hundred percent again.

He had never felt more disgusted with himself, nor more pathetic.

* * *

 

Nami and Chopper caught him in the kitchen on his way back from the bathhouse, disoriented and unsure of whether or not he wanted to head back to the infirmary anymore. Would he be welcome back at the sleeping quarters? The last time he had been in there he nearly infected them all with a painful, horrific virus.

Chopper stopped him midway to the door. "Sanji, are you okay?"

His eyes were bright with worry, and with a gentle tug, he began leading Sanji towards the infirmary door. Taking advantage of his distraction, Nami hooked her arm through his, furthering dissuading any thoughts of hiding himself away again.

"Robin said you would come back on your own, but I was worried." Nami touched his arm lightly, and he did his best to smile at the two of them. Despite how off he had felt lately, about himself, his friends, and everything that had happened on Staithe, it was hard to make himself stay away from them. He had missed them so much.

"I-I'm fine," he assured them, trying to ignore the loud conversation coming from out on the deck. He would have been fine avoiding that particular situation, but his ears picked up on a voice that had been at the back of his mind for a while now.

The bustle outside drew him towards the door, his heart pounding a steady drumbeat in his chest. Nami's and Chopper's questions became the background noise instead, while his focus turned to trouble and turmoil. Before he realized what he was doing, Sanji opened the door to the crowd gathered on the Sunny's lawn, taking in the sight of the ship in pure daylight for the first time in weeks.

His eyes settled on one particular person among the rest.

The man turned around as though he felt the weight of Sanji's gaze on him. A smile flitted over his lips. "Sanji, you're up."

 _In fucking Common_ , that filthy liar. All of them, pretending they knew _shit_ about anything but their own language. Had everything been a lie from the start?

"We were told you have been recovering," the man continued, oblivious. "You look w-"

"...Balkos…" Without warning, Sanji slammed his fist into Balkos' face, sending him staggering back with the force of the blow. He hadn't expected it himself and stumbled to the ground with him, panting as though he had just run a mile. His hand felt hot, trickling and sticky and wet, but Balkos was slowly sitting up, looking at him in bewilderment and hurt.

Sanji dragged himself off the ground. _"You fucking bastard-"_

He froze when he realized that all eyes were on the two of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Robin raising her arms as though to call on her Devil's Fruit powers to restrain him; on the opposite end of the ship, Luffy and Zoro looked ready to pounce on Balkos with all of their fury. They might have no idea what the altercation was about, but the first thing they thought about was coming to his defense. He was both touched and terrified (terrified of what he could end up dragging his crew into).

Balkos stood up, rubbing his cheek gingerly. "Sanji, please don't make a scene-"

"Oh, you'd l-l-like that, w-w-wouldn't you?" It occurred to him that he was shaking again, for a different reason now. His hands were balled up into fists at his side as well as he could manage, what with one of them in a brace and the other dripping blood everywhere. The fact that he had just split his knuckles on this bastard's face only added an extra sting to the pain. "T-tell me to shut m-my trap, or b-better yet, why don't you j-just lie to my face again? Th-th-that worked p-pretty well l-last time, d-didn't it?"

He was starting to sound hysterical, stuttering, even to his own ears, but he was bursting with this ugly, nervous energy and it needed an escape. The other man's silence was ruining him. _"Did it fucking not, Balkos?"_

"Can we talk?" Balkos looked around at the sea of eyes on them, from his own crewmates to the Lathos pirates to the Strawhats themselves. "...in...private?"

Sanji was drowning in his own rage.

"Fine." He wrenched him towards the open doorway of the kitchen, shoving him away once they reached the threshold where he leaned against the doorjamb furiously. "Fine. Talk, then."

Balkos looked even more flustered, probably because dragging him away from the middle of the lawn hadn't taken everyone's attention off of them. It afforded them a measure of separation, which was all that Sanji cared about.

And still Balkos waited quietly, like he didn't know what to say.

Sanji ground his teeth together. It felt the way his words did, grating and crashing into each other as they tried to spill out of his mouth, and it wasn't _fair_ , Balkos could talk but wouldn't, so why couldn't Sanji? "What is it? You had plenty of words before, what now? Can we do this without me spitting up blood, or should I dig out some rat poison first?"

"...you aren't being fair," Balkos said rationally, looking a little more composed (and disappointed) now. "And this is hardly the place to discuss...the matter."

Sanji opened his mouth with a ready snarl, but Balkos' next words, in his mother tongue silenced him effectively. "Do you wish for your friends to be listening?"

Reluctantly, he switched to his birth language and fixed a sullen glare on Balkos, who looked a little relieved. The expression didn't last as Sanji refused to give him even a modicum of comfort. "You have thirty seconds to talk your way out of this, Balkos. Talk."

"I understand you are upset," Balkos began, and that was his first mistake.

 _"Upset?"_ Sanji laughed, feeling like he was seconds from losing it. It was showing on his face, from the way that his crewmates were creeping in along the edges of their "private" space. He held a hand up sharply, _don't come closer_ , and turned back to Balkos, who was looking more and more pained with every passing moment. "Balkos, upset is having to deal with my captain's appetite at hell o'clock in the morning before I've even had the time for prep work; this…"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Well, this is just a pile of _crap_. I don't have the patience for your shit anymore."

"Will you let me explain?" Balkos asked weakly.

"Explain?" Sanji snorted. "Explain _what_? That you fed me some bull about what happened on the harbor and that I actually believed you, like I could _trust_ you? That you actually think this is going to just go away with 'I understand you're upset'?"

He leaned heavily against the door, feeling suddenly weak and sick. His eyes were burning. "You're doing a fan- _fucking_ -tastic job of explaining yourself."

"You do not understand, the Qohar...Khalashtrogos, he asked me to." Balkos looked pleadingly at him. "Sanji, you have no idea how sick you were, and they ask me to help calm you. You were suffering and delirious, and no one else knows your language like I do. How can I refuse?"

He took a step forward, and Sanji retreated further into himself. The look on Balkos' face twisted the knife deeper even as he kept spouting his nonsense like it was supposed to change anything. "He likes to test people, and you have had his attention for a while. It was not supposed to go like this; I wanted to tell you, but then things... _I am so sorry_."

Sanji looked away, holding back angry tears. "I am _such_ an idiot."

Balkos shook his head silently, but he really didn't have any faith left in this man. Especially not when the bastard's crew was leering at them from the sidelines like that. "Heh, you played me for a fool and then you pranced off to brag about it to your friends. What else did you tell them? How I fell apart spectacularly after eating up that crap straight from your fucking hands?"

"You know that was not me," Balkos whispered, and Sanji knew what was implied by that statement. Of course he could believe that Khalashtrogos found the whole fiasco a laughing riot, but all of his illusions about him, about any of them, were completely torn to pieces. "Sanji…"

He honestly didn't know what he wanted anymore. That he had been played for an idiot from the start was obvious. That Balkos tricked him and lied to him stung like a slap to the face at first; now, it just felt like nausea, like embarrassment. And now everyone could see it, even if they couldn't understand the conversation yet. He was sure Balkos would take care of that later.

"I wanted to trust you," he said heavily, and _God_ he felt like such a child for all of this. "I still want to. You know...I don't make friends easily. I'm an asshole, and I know it. Even with my own crew, and I still don't know how they even put up with me in the beginning."

That was why it hurt so much. He had been so collected, dignified, reasonable. He knew Sanji's home, at least a little. He wanted to get along with _him_ , nasty and biting and rude as he was, and in the end it had been nothing but a ruse. "And you made it so easy, and I fell for your stupid act, hook, line, and sinker."

Balkos stopped him quickly. "No, you did not fall for anything. It...it was not supposed to get this far."

"You mean that bald lie you told to my face?" Sanji snapped back, losing his second wind almost as soon as he got it. His hands fell back to his sides. "Balkos, I _begged_ you to tell me that you were lying. _Ir-vouz-muen,_ and you looked me straight in the eye and _lied_ to me _._ "

"I had no choice, Sanji. Khalashtrogos…"

"Yes, yes, I get that he has a fucking boner for toying around with me. You have free will, don't you?"

Balkos' expression became stony, and there was a terrifying glint in his eyes as he glowered over Sanji. "I understand you feel deeply wounded, and it was cruel of me to deceive you, but I will not stand while you disrespect in front of me this man over a _lie_."

A lie? Did he not understand that 'your crew is dead' meant so much more than that to him? "Balkos, you don't get it. _I gave everything I had to die on that island_."

Balkos seemed to understand _that_ , because his face lost all its color underneath the paints and dyes. His voice was tremulous. "You…you would actually-"

"How is it that someone so clever could be so simple?" Sanji grinned bitterly, giving his temple a light tap. "They're my _friends_. I thought they were _gone_ , I thought...I still don't know why I held on as long as I did."

Balkos frowned deeply. "That is foolish. You know they would not appreciate it. They would want you to go on."

Sanji whirled on him, snarling. "What would you know about my friends? You don't know them; you haven't said two words to them!"

"But I did, and I have." He froze, staring at Balkos in open shock as he made a very familiar gesture with his right hand. _The bandana he wrapped around his wrist in the surgery room_ ( _Zoro is dead, your crew is dead_ ). "You know, when I took that from him, he was awake. He only asked that I make sure you were safe."

Sanji felt his throat tighten; embarrassingly, his cheeks were burning despite everything he was feeling. Balkos seemed to take his silence as a cue to continue. "I do not think he was fully conscious of what he was saying; from the look of it, he suffered a head wound and was bleeding heavily. But in that moment, even in mortal danger, you are his priority. I could leave him to be crushed and he would die smiling, for you."

And his heart dropped; Balkos had a look in his eyes that frightened him more than his anger on Khalashtrogos' behalf. It was the look of a schemer with bad intentions. He could hardly breathe out of fear. "Listen, Balkos. I'll be the idiot, the fool, your joke...whatever, fine. But don't you dare play around with Zoro, or _any_ of my friends."

That look was gone, and Balkos was back to apologizing and pleading with him. "It was only an observation! Perhaps his loyalty is flattering, touching even, but it is liable to get him killed because anyone who will look at you can see it clear as day."

"Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about."

"You cannot pretend that it is not true. You also cannot believe that he will always be strong enough to survive."

"I said stop it, Balkos."

"There are those who will not hesitate to use that against you, and you will be not able to stop them-"

_"GET OFF MY SHIP."_

His scream ripped the silence open wide enough for everyone else to get in, and between all of the yelling and arguing (Luffy was threatening Khalashtrogos, oh God) he barely heard Balkos begging him for just one more moment.

"Please," he said breathlessly, gripping his arm so hard that he was afraid it would break. But he was talking in Sanji's language, so he was still rational, wasn't he? The pain shooting up his arm was warning him differently; unable to help himself, he backed away, step by step. "Listen to me; I just need you to hear this."

Against his good sense, his self-preservation, and the creeping, petrifying sensation of being trapped, Sanji hesitated and gave him the benefit of the doubt. He didn't say anything, but he trusted that Balkos would get the hint and talk. Quickly, he hoped. He was so tired of feeling trapped.

"Despite everything, you must believe me, I…" He smiled frailly at him, drawing close enough that Sanji found himself caught between Balkos and the railing. "My concern for you was real. I only wished to help you."

Sanji returned the smile with little humor, but he switched languages again, if only to keep the others from hearing this next part. He jabbed a finger at Balkos' throat, a gesture that anyone would recognize despite not understanding what they were saying. "Yeah, you were a big help when I was looking for the closest noose that would fit my neck."

Balkos' face fell, and he slowly released his arm as he looked away. But Sanji wasn't done just yet. He clenched his teeth so tightly that he thought he would break his own jaw; it was hardly even a smile anymore. "And one more thing, about my language that 'no one else knows as well as you do'...your 'mastery' of it is a fucking joke. Don't _ever_ use it again."

Sanji yanked on his collar hard enough to haul him over the railing, and the look on his face was almost enough to make up for the crap he had just been fed (the splash as Balkos hit the water fulfilled the rest, thankfully). With that, he turned sharply and headed for the shortest path to the men's quarters, ignoring the open stares of everyone on deck as he stalked across the lawn. He was hardly beyond caring what they thought of him, but there was a certain satisfaction from leaving everyone speechless after a display like that. They wanted something to look at, so he gave it to them.

As he passed Usopp, Sanji grabbed his arm and towed him towards the door, hissing a quick "walk with me" as his only explanation. The sniper looked confused for a moment, but he seemed to catch something in his expression that kept him from asking any questions. When Sanji's vision tilted in the most horrible way, he hooked his arm casually around his shoulders.

"Don't let me fall in front of them," Sanji muttered, and Usopp whispered back, "I won't."

By the time the door closed behind them, his feet were dragging and most of his vision was nothing but a bunch of black spots. Tremblingly, he whirled around and caught Usopp's arms, but his knees were already buckling beneath him. Usopp looked worried, but he was smiling widely. "You really don't know when to stop, do you?"

"...I try not to," Sanji managed to say after struggling to stay on his feet. The room spun viciously, and he remembered one last thing he wanted to say before he passed out. "...thank you, Usopp."

He didn't get to hear Usopp's reply, sadly.

* * *

 

Sanji blinked his eyes slowly...or at least, he blinked _one_ eye slowly, the other held shut by the weight of his pillow as his face sank into its downy depths. (The effect was much like feeling his eye twitch lazily.) The last thing he remembered was being led towards the closest bunk, Usopp's, and then blacking out completely. A groan stirred low in his throat, and he turned his head away from the morning sunlight and into the blessed-

There was a damp spot right in the middle of the damn thing.

"Eugh…" he cringed.

Instantly, there was a murmur of voices around him.

"Sanji? ...he's up, guys!"

"Thank goodness, I was beginning to worry."

"Sanji-kun, why do you have to be so... _so stupid_!"

"Oi, oi, little bro; how do you manage to be so super and un-super at the same time?"

"Shhh, Mr Shipwright. Please, all of this noise isn't good for him."

"He hasn't exactly shown interest in what's good for him, to be fair."

"Ahaha...that's why we're here for him. Right, Zoro?"

"Ahem, _please_ let me get to my patient, okay?"

Sanji lifted his head off of the pillow and blinked blearily at the relieved smiles of his crewmates, wondering why his chest felt so tight if he wasn't wearing those bandages anymore. "...were you watching me drool on Usopp's pillow this whole time?"

Everyone shared a quick, guilty look with each other before nodding in unison. "You also snored a little."

He kept the smile off his face as he sighed, but he really didn't have it in him to be annoyed at them. The nightmare of the past few weeks seemed to lessen a bit, just by being with them again.

His body protested moving from the bed, but he forced himself to sit up and smooth the pillow as best as he could. Everyone's eyes were still on him, and he felt his cheeks burn. Oh God, this was embarrassing. "Sorry, Usopp."

"Ehhh…you can keep it," he said gingerly, pushing it back in his direction. Usopp grinned teasingly at his displeased expression, but he gave the most satisfying yelp when Sanji launched the pillow at his face.

It took less effort to smile this time.


	32. Interlude: Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji's hands are important. Sanji's hands are a treasure. Sanji's hands transcend the boundaries of time and space, and Luffy is certain that Sanji's hands hold the secret to why he's always caught stealing from _Sunny's_ kitchen.

_Superficial damage_ , Chopper said.  _It just looks worse than it actually is._

After he was done washing away all of the dried blood on Sanji's hand, it was easier to believe him. Split and bruised knuckles disappeared underneath a swathe of soft gauze and bandages, and finally it felt like the whole room let out a deep breath. Luffy disliked the look of it a little less, now that he knew it was going to heal perfectly.

Chopper was brilliant like that.

He grinned at Sanji, who was sitting up in Usopp's bed with his hand out for Chopper to look at, but he was shaken by what he found. Shaken, or just very let down. Sanji's eyes were tired and dull. He didn't seem to want to take his gaze off his hand which, although it was clean and wrapped up, was nothing like how Sanji's hand was supposed to look. And it would keep not looking like Sanji's hand for a while, for as long as Chopper decided it needed to heal.

It was a cook's hand, and more importantly, it was Sanji's hand. His hands didn't look right wrapped in bandages. Luffy had seen what a cook's hands were meant to look like back at the Baratie. They were marked but whole, and they fit perfectly in the kitchen, cutting and peeling and dicing through the work of cooking. Sanji's were especially good at all of that, and Luffy was only ever used to seeing his hands in that way. Never rigid and bound up for healing like this.

That didn't mean that Chopper didn't want what was best for Sanji. He knew about healing people more than the rest of the crew combined, and he knew  _way_ more than Luffy ever would. Chances were that Sanji's hand would be fine before they knew it.

It was Sanji that Luffy was worried about. They found him soaked and slumped at the end of Staithe, watching what was left of the island sink below the waves. He was always quick-thinking and smart, which made his behavior all wrong. If they hadn't reached him when they did, the island would have taken him with it.  _Sunny_ had barely made it out of the currents pulling them in, and it was nothing compared to what Sanji would have gone through if he'd been caught in the sinking. And that was just the start. If Luffy had to choose, out of the list of things that worried him about Sanji (and over the past week, it had gotten  _long_ ), it had to be the look in his eyes. Luffy had promised himself that he would not see that look in his crew's eyes, and he had just broken that promise.

But he loved his crew more than his own feelings, and he had never wasted time feeling sorry for himself anyway. That wasn't how he worked at all.

Luffy took Sanji's hand—mindful of the bandages—and gave an appreciative nod. "Thanks, Chopper. It looks a lot better."

Chopper smiled hesitantly, though Sanji's expression sort of ruined the effect of his comment. He didn't let that stop him, of course.

"Sanji, don't you feel better now?"

Sanji said nothing.

Zoro, who had been watching them closely from the other side of the room, growled low under his breath. Luffy wasn't sure that his expression could get any darker, but Zoro was always full of surprises. He shook his head at Zoro quietly and smiled at Sanji, hardly discouraged by his total disinterest.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Luffy felt the gazes of his crewmates on him, but right now the only person who needed his attention was hunched, trembling, over his injured hands. He pretended not to notice this as he studied Sanji's hands, waiting for Sanji to look up on his own.

"You know why I like your hands, Sanji?" He felt Sanji move like he was about to wrench his hands free, but after a shuddering breath he went very still. Luffy decided to take it as a sign that he could continue. "It's a weird reason, so don't laugh."

The whole room was holding in a breath again.

"It's that I can't figure them out," he said simply, picking at the edge of the bandage ("Stop that", Chopper pouted). "Sorry. Anyway, I've thought about it for a long time since we met, because I really like looking at them."

He would have welcomed a jibe about how he was always staring, drooling, while Sanji cooked, and for a moment it looked like Sanji would say something. He was disappointed, but again, he was not someone who gave up easily. "I'm always drooling over your cooking, and you spend a lot of time making stuff, so I spend a lot of time looking."

Sanji made a noise that was something like a snort, and that was almost a good sign if you thought about it.  _At least he's feeling something._ "It's funny, isn't it? But I like it, and you're really talented. I can never get tired just watching, and I can't figure it out either."

"So, I make up ideas about it, when I'm not making up plans to sneak food away while you're busy (and how do you always catch me, anyway?). I get to thinking, where does all that talent come from? And I decide that maybe this finger-"

Here he wiggled Sanji's pinkie a little, smiling at the shy, confused look on Sanji's face.

"-has all the balancing talent, because the way you handle all your tools is impossible, but you always find your way around everything, even the knives. Usopp manages to cut himself with the  _butterknife_."

Usopp grumbled in protest.

"One time was one too many," Luffy replied. "Anyway, the next finger has the choosing talent, and it's how you know what to use and when to put it in. It's the first step in making your food taste so good. You've also got your strength finger, and your recipe finger, and because I don't really know what else goes into cooking, your middle finger is definitely your 'I know Luffy is creeping in my kitchen again' finger. There's no other explanation."

Nami was covering her mouth, eyes twinkling with laughter, and he could see Robin's smile out of the corner of his eye. The others wore similar expressions, but his favorite was Sanji's. He just looked bemused, but that dull look was gone from his eyes, and a smile was just within his grasp, he knew it.

He wanted Sanji to know something else, first. "But I think the reason I like your hands so much isn't all of that, or that you use them to make me good food all the time."

Sanji raised his eyebrow at him but said nothing. Good, he knew this was important.

"You know, you're always taking care of them, and they're so important to you." Luffy wanted to find the words to explain what that made him feel, but he was never good with explanations like this one. He hoped that Sanji was getting the gist of it. "You...they're your treasure, Sanji, and I know that's why it hurts so much."

"L-Luffy, it's not-" Sanji looked stricken, and he fell silent on his own without Luffy having to tell him that he didn't have to lie.

Luffy counted off his fingers again (balance, strength, discernment, knowledge, intuition) and sighed. "They're our treasure too, you know. They're special to us because they're special to you."

And he knew that even though so much of what had happened was just a mystery to them, Sanji was still Sanji, and he had seen the meaning behind his actions earlier. Luffy might be the only witness here to the one other time where hurt, hands, and a punch had such a heavy meaning before (the difference was that Zeff knew how to throw a punch). That bastard was going to have hell once the Strawhats heard about everything that had happened before the scene on the lawn this morning. "I don't know a lot, I don't know what Balkos did or anything. I don't know how he hurt you, but…your hands, Sanji, are your treasure, and you've never fought with that. They're our treasure too, so let  _us_ throw the punches for them."

Maybe Luffy was really bad at stuff like this, but Sanji was really bad at it too. He went from casting around for something to look away to, something to distract him, to forcing himself to look Luffy in the face, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth pressed into a trembling line.

"I…" Sanji looked back down at his hands. "...I don't know if I c-c-can apologize."

"I don't want an apology," Luffy said. He didn't want guilt or regret from Sanji. That wasn't the reason he'd said those things at all. "I just wanted you to know that whatever happens, more than everything, you're our friend, and we're with you no matter what."

Without waiting for Sanji's answer, Luffy wrapped his arms around him, knowing that he'd be too stubborn to do it himself. It was a sad kind of stubbornness, the kind that kept him from seeking out the help and comfort he really needed (and wanted badly, he guessed, by the way Sanji's shoulders shook). He smiled when he heard Sanji, barely a mumble, but it was a start. "...I did feel b-b-better, Luffy."

Chopper heard, too, and he jumped up into Sanji's lap and hugged him tightly, whimpering something about getting him anything he needed to prevent scarring and pain no matter  _how_ much he asked for. Sanji laughed weakly, and that was enough for the rest of them to pounce on him, too. They toppled under a pile of hugs, limbs akimbo and tangled, and then there was a lot of swearing as they each came to realize that their group hug had been poorly thought out. He heard a couple of them complain that they couldn't even reach Sanji, to which Sanji laughed again, a little lighter this time. Luffy focused on his laugh and refused to let go; the others could get their turn later, because he suspected there would be a lot more hugging for a while.

And he took comfort in that none of them really wanted to go back out just yet, not when Sanji was in here. They didn't even have to talk about anything to enjoy being together again, even if Sanji was still strangely quiet. Luffy knew he couldn't expect everything to be perfect yet, but he still pulled Sanji closer, willing his silence and sadness away.

_Depend on us, Sanji. Let us protect your treasure. Let us protect you. You're not alone anymore._

* * *

The inside of Trafalgar Law's ship was as strange as the outside, Zoro thought as Luffy led him down its narrow, twisting hallway. There were as many stairwells as there were doors, and the low lights lining the ceiling created a dim, hazy atmosphere that was even more disorienting than the crooked hallway itself. If there were any place in the world that he could get lost in, this would be pretty damn close to it (not that he would ever admit it to anyone).

Nevertheless, it was a clever design that made him wonder how they had found a balance between metal and wood to make it as strong and as buoyant as it was. There couldn't possibly be another ship like it, not for a long time. He knew it was something Franky would appreciate getting a closer look at.  _Thousand Sunny_  revealed her abilities, little by little over the past weeks since she'd set out from Water 7, but as far as Franky had hinted at them, traveling underwater (undercover) was not one of them. The so-titled  _Qise_ was what their shipwright (grudgingly) called 'a stunner, in a super kind of way.'

But it was not  _Sunny_ , and that, he supposed, was Luffy's reasoning for keeping Sardoc here. It was secure, it was dark, and it was far away from Sanji. A week had passed after they had gotten him back from Staithe and they barely had an inkling of what had happened to him; it drove Zoro mad to think about it. It wasn't something he felt that he could share with anyone, not when he had to hold it together for the others.  _I'm not the only one who feels this way, but...I should have been there for him. Whatever it was that hurt him this much, the Project, his illness, that bastard Balkos, he needed me. That is, he needed us._

The guilt hurt as much as leaving Sanji behind had, but there was nothing Zoro could do to change what happened, and that made thinking about it pointless. What they had left was Sanji's safety and health, and everything else would come with time. They needed to keep him safe until then, and for that they needed to know what sort of enemy they were up against.

For that, they needed the worst of the bastards on board these ships.

After what felt like several ships' worth of twisting corridors, Luffy brought him to a small yellow antechamber (which looked more like a waiting room than anything that belonged in this strange maze of a ship). The captain hesitated in front of the steel door at the end of the room. "They moved him since the last time I was down here...I don't really know why. But Law said to come here if I needed him."

Zoro noted his confusion and shrugged; he didn't even know where they were. For all he knew, they weren't even on  _Qise_ anymore. "You know more than I do, and even if it isn't much it's probably enough to get us through."  _It always has been._

Luffy grinned broadly at him and swung the door open; there was a faint crack to mark the breaking of the lock, but neither of them actually noticed it until later. "Only probably? You're being mean today, Zoro."

"I'm just being practical. Sometimes you need that, too." He stopped just beyond the door and waited for Luffy to deal with the other captain, who was bent over what was bound to be one of his many personal 'projects'. (Zoro didn't know what those actually entailed, only that it was really creepy even by his own crew's standards. It was probably like how none of the Strawhats could deny their captain's...stupidity, in the most respectful way possible.)

Law was so focused on what he was doing that he barely offered them a greeting over the shoulder. It caught Luffy's attention instantly, and he bounded over without warning, ignoring the protests and yelps of surprise from the other Heart Pirates in the room. "Hey, Law; whatcha doin'?"

There was a short beat, and then Luffy said, " _Whoa, what's that?"_

He followed his captain's example and shoved past the other crew (taking the masks they offered because he really didn't want to stop and argue right now), stopping short when he reached the table that held Law's 'project'.

Zoro had often, in his short but violent career as a bounty hunter and his even shorter career as a pirate, come across shocking and gruesome sights; it was part of the job. He'd been the cause of many of them himself, and he didn't have a problem stomaching them either. No one could live in a world like this and avoid the ugly for long. But he had never seen something like this before.

He snapped. "Luffy told you he wanted this bastard alive and you've gone and gutted him like last night's dinner, what the  _hell?"_

"What the hell are you doing here?" was Law's irritable reply. His mood probably wasn't improved by Luffy latching on to his arm to begin a barrage of questions and comments that mostly involved the words 'crazy' and 'cool' . "Th-the door was locked...Strawhat, stop that right now!"

"But you haven't answered any of my questions," Luffy complained, releasing Law's arm in time to avoid getting an accidental knife to the eye. Law looked relieved and set the tool down as soon as he was free, rounding on the two of them with a sharp glare.

"This isn't the place for questions or...whatever it is you were doing. I could have _really_ hurt you." Law's expression softened as he said this, and he closed his eyes tiredly at Luffy's bright grin and matter-of-fact "but you didn't". "...just be more careful, alright?"

"Yeah, okay."

Zoro could have rolled his eyes; if Luffy had been in any real danger, then he wouldn't have let him anywhere near the man in the first place. He pegged Law's uneasiness as being related more to the fact that they had barged in on his work unannounced, and now that he saw what it was, he couldn't blame him. There was nothing casual or relaxing about what was laid out on the table before them. He'd seen the grisly innards of a person before, but there was something unsettling about how methodical and organized this was. "...did you have to do this?"

"He was in a bad state, and though I have ways of dealing with conditions like his without doing this, it got more difficult after the first examination. Complications and a lot of other issues. I needed a look at the big picture." Law must have noticed the question that he'd been unable to ask and grinned slowly behind his mask. "He's not dead, by the way."

Zoro wanted to point out that he should have said that to begin with, but the ever-excitable Luffy had decided that he'd had enough of just  _looking_.

"He's still alive? That's just crazy; how'd you do it? Hold on, I need to see this." Luffy probably would have clambered onto the table if Zoro hadn't caught him around the waist and hauled him back. Giving up on the scuffle, the captain settled for peering at the procedure over Law's shoulders, to the other man's annoyance. "This is so cool! Can I try next?"

"No," Zoro and Law said in unison.  _Well, we can agree on that much, I guess._

Luffy deflated and skulked off to stare gloomily at the tools on the small cart beside the table. Law's crewmates eyed him as though they were half expecting him to start playing around with them, which wasn't that far off as a guess, to be honest. He was a curious, reckless person. But they didn't have to look terrified about it; Luffy was not stupid to the point where he would seriously hurt someone with those things. Probably (he had to be practical).

He shook his head and frowned at Law. "What do you call this, Law?"

Law raised his brow at Zoro but continued working, arms deep in that mess of blood and fluids again. "Surgery. People get sick, hurt, or develop conditions in their body that can only be remedied by going straight to the source of the problem. Your man here happens to fall into this category. That this virus is able to progress to such a state, however..."

"He's not ours-" Zoro froze, letting Law's statements sink in and connect to the bits of knowledge they already had about the virus. He swallowed hard and stopped Law's arm again in mid-motion. "It's that bad that you had to cut him open?"

His tone must have startled Law, because he closed his mouth almost as soon as he opened it to answer his question. Instead, he turned to Luffy, who fixed him with a curious look, and there was something sad about the genuine way he asked his question. "Law...if the virus got this bad again, would you have to do surgery to Sanji, too?"

Law's expression was carefully pieced together, but there was nothing dishonest about his answer. "If there was no other way to help him, and if you asked, I would."

Zoro couldn't look at his captain anymore; he was afraid of seeing what kind of emotion he'd find on his face. He looked down at Sardoc instead, deathly still beneath an array of blue sheets, bright lights, and softly humming machines. Somehow, it wasn't hard to imagine Sanji in his place, face white as ashes and half covered by a plastic mask, his mussed hair spread out on the cold steel table like this. For a second, it  _was_ Sanji on the table, eerily quiet and still, features flushed by fever and illness. He was taken aback by how easily Sardoc became Sanji and stepped away, heart pounding in his chest.

"You won't have to," was the only intelligible thing his mind managed to come up with. Every other one of his replies involved tracking down HQ and the Project to make them pay down to the very last scrap of pain that Sanji had gone through because of them. When he finally got his hands on them, he'd make sure they never thought about that virus again. "...Luffy, you came down here for a reason, remember?"

"Right! Oi, Sardoc; you've got questions to answer!"

Law shook his head and reached over Luffy to grab a thin tool that he scraped across an organ Zoro wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the name of. "Strawhat, he's under a considerable amount of anaesthesia; he won't be up for another-"

A low groan startled him silent.

Everyone glanced at the table warily, but the prone body laid across it didn't move. The expectation that he would wake up passed, and Zoro almost felt disappointed for a moment. Then, Sardoc's eyes opened briefly, unfocused and wide with fear, before he squeezed them shut amidst a coughing fit. "...w-where am I?"

Zoro knew that it was petty, but somehow the look on the doctor's face gave him a great deal of satisfaction. "Luffy has a voice to raise the dead," he shrugged.

"This...isn't happening," Law said, turning to one of his crewmates with a growl. "I want this man out like yesterday. He's in the middle of surgery!"

"'m in the middle o' what?" Sardoc mumbled, trying to lift his head up to look at himself. What he got was an eyeful of his own viscera, for which Zoro didn't envy him at all. " _Oh my-"_

"He just woke up," Luffy complained. "I haven't even asked him anything yet. Sardoc, try to focus; your whole panicking thing is distracting me."

"You can't do this!" Law noticed the confusion on Luffy's face and visibly reined his reaction in, breathing deeply before readjusting Luffy's mask (he had pulled it down twice in the five minutes since he'd put it on). "Look, you can talk to him when he's not under the knife and in distress, but my priority is his safety."

"I'll make it quick," Luffy said placatingly. "I promise. Okay, Sardoc; where's HQ?"

Sardoc glared at him as well as he could from beneath that array of sheets, tubes, and lights. It wasn't that impressive a glare. "We're looking at my _fucking_ insides here and you expect me to figure out _where fucking HQ is?"_

"You're doing pretty fine if you can string a sentence like that together," Zoro shrugged. "I'm sure you can handle another word or two."

"I don't know," Sardoc grumbled, but he seemed to calm down after his initial panic when he woke up. Zoro figured that Law must have had him on a lot of painkillers if he wasn't screaming his head off right now. Either that or the distant, unfocused look in his eyes was shock and not calm at all. "We were...heading for HQ. Then Prussian showed up to be an ass to the kids and then handed _my_ ass to me. What did happen, anyway?"

"We need to find them," Luffy said seriously. Zoro was reminded of the look the captain had given back in their sleeping quarters, when Sanji refused to respond to any of them. He swallowed hard and looked back at Sardoc, who watched them closely with a wary expression. "Sanji's back with us, and he's safe, but I can't forgive what they did to him. I need to get to HQ."

"And I need to fix my patient," Law complained, sighing in exasperation when Sardoc tried to sit up. The drugs kept him still for the most part, but the doctor was obviously stressed out by the way his 'surgery' was unfolding. "Actually, I need a drink."

"Great, but you have to share," Zoro agreed. Sharing alcohol between five crews was exhausting and disappointing, but there really was nothing to be done about it until they reached the next port.

"Everyone, stop," one of Law's crewmates said, and Zoro glanced over his shoulder at a very distressed Bepo as he tried to stop his captain from exiting the surgery, still very drenched in blood.

He shook his head and raised his brow at Luffy, who got the message almost immediately and dropped the scalpel in his hand (unfortunately, he dropped it somewhere inside of Sardoc's torso). "Get a grip, all of you. Luffy's asking the questions, Sardoc is giving the answers, and then everyone can go back to poking holes at him. Got it?"

Sardoc narrowed his eyes. "What makes you so sure that I can help?"

"We're not," Luffy admitted, cutting Zoro off before he could threaten to throttle the bastard on the spot, badly sick or not. "But you're the only one we can ask right now."

He froze, seeming to take a moment to consider this. A wide, cocky grin spread across his face, and Zoro's scowl only made it grow smugger and more punchable.

"I like this," he stated simply, looking nothing like a heavily drugged man who was pinned down on a metal table with most of his internal organs exposed to the open air. Right now, he looked to have a bit of leverage, and even if it wasn't much, Zoro hated the way it felt.

It felt like being weak and helpless to do anything to protect Sanji.

 

 


	33. Interlude: Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin shoulders the responsibility of keeping Sanji afloat for a day, and she finds out that it is more than a full-time commitment.

As a child he spent many years on the ocean, rocked and lulled and cradled not by a warm, tender embrace but by boat after boat along a series of waves bigger than the next, lying on his back and feeling the sea collide with the sea just beneath the surface and finding the purest piece of solace in the way he felt then. It didn't matter if there were tears streaming down his cheeks or whether it was just a lonely sleepless night lying on the deck of another lonely ship. He'd spread his arms out and tilt his head back and lose himself in the hours as they fell away to the rhythm of the sea, deep and rumbling as the clouds rolled on silently against the twinkling sky. It was like floating in the shallows and remembering just how great and vast the ocean really was, and that was comforting in its own way.

He'd do anything to have that comfort back right now.

Sanji sighed and squirmed inside the wardrobe piled on top of him, feeling like he was turning into rivers underneath infinite layers of cotton and canvas. Maybe it was an exaggeration, but the crew had really gutted the closets while they were getting him dressed to go outside. _For your protection,_  they said.  _You shouldn't be out in the sun without covering up properly, you're still recovering and you could get faint or have heatstroke or become feverish. Are you feeling feverish? You look a little red. Here, have another hat._ He almost insisted that he was fine on his own, but seeing Chopper's eyes wide with worry and tears killed the words right in his throat. It was easier to go along with their concerns than to fight them on this.

 _They looked so relieved_ , he thought, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, clumsy and heavy with the splint around his broken fingers.  _If I can make them happy by being safe and quiet and compliant…_

His stomach gave a nasty flip. He couldn't go as far as saying that it had all been worth it, but if his friends could smile like that for him, then he thought he could swallow down everything he was feeling and smile back. It was the least he could do...the least he could do when he couldn't even tell them what had happened on Staithe Wharf.

He wasn't being completely fair to himself, though. When he thought about it, he couldn't really explain what he was feeling, or how he had ended up here, like this, sitting on  _Thousand Sunny's_  deck under a collection of mismatched clothes and trappings, feeling like a thousand degrees under the noonday sun. He couldn't bring himself to put it all into words, not the Biles, not the Project, and least of all The Blue Room.

A wave of nausea passed over him, mercifully quick, and he tried to steady his breathing.  _I can't keep reacting like this; it's so stupid._

Feeling like he was purposefully slipping back under the water, Sanji lay back on his little stretch of grass and willed the sun-spattered clouds away, closing his eyes as slowly as he could.

His heartbeat had never been so loud.

_He sank, plunging into the well as the water rose up to swallow him. It bubbled and frothed with his agitation and fear, reaching down his throat with icy fingers to choke him from the inside out, holding him still like tendrils were tangled around his arms and legs._

Sanji dug his fingers into the earth beneath him, clinging to that last scrap of reality to get him through this. He had to go over these memories, one way or another. His friends deserved an explanation (but did he?).

_HQ's silence spoke for them, cold and unmoving. He opened his mouth in a wordless scream, and HQ's voice came like a command through the roar of the waters. Die, they stated, and he was obliged to listen. Die and serve me, Skeleton Key._

_As he lost consciousness, there were snatches of whispers sneaking into his ears and tearing at his skin like icicles. 'You don't breathe in The Blue Room. Now be calm, and see.' The voice thrummed through his veins, needle-thin and childlike. Fearfully, he blinked his eyes at the cold, watery darkness before him and saw The Blue Room for what it was, not as a body of water or a room with a strange hunger, but as the end (or a beginning) of a really, really long descent into ruin and misery._

_The bottom of a dark well._

_A crowded well, with all of THEM swarming the water around him, clawing and tearing his skin, and he was drowning, oh God. Couldn't THEY see that he needed to breathe? He didn't want to be here, he wanted nothing to do with THEM. And still THEY refused to let him go even with all of his struggling. If anything, that drove THEM into a frenzy, and he felt a pair of gnarled, clammy hands wrap around his throat. Spots danced before his eyes, and his chest was screaming for air. If there was any strength left in him, he would have sobbed._

_YOU DROWN WITH US YOU DIE WITH US WE WILL EAT YOU ALIVE_

_That childlike voice was back, but the thing on the other end of it was in no way a child; it wasn't even human. He would have felt more than a vague sense of dread if he wasn't so close to passing out. Slowly, his body was losing the battle to live, unable to take any more of this torture. Crushing, agonizing, 'give in'-_

_SNAP._

He was shaking so violently when he came to his senses, his right hand wrapped around the splint on his left, and he remembered why he hadn't. Coughing, Sanji was just able to throw himself to his feet before he retched, doubled over the railing and wishing to any God that existed out there that he hadn't found out.

Nothing came up, though he dry-heaved a few more times before he was able to rein himself back in. He fell back on the lawn, blinking the sweat out of his eyes as he realized that he had avoided these memories for his own sake. It wasn't something he could ever bring himself to say out loud, none of it. Especially not the part where he broke his own fingers to rouse himself from unconsciousness.

 _Weak_ , whispered a voice in the back of his head, and his fingers throbbed beneath the splint.  _It's because you're too weak_.

Sanji shook his head and turned towards the sound of a door opening on the other side of the lawn. He sat up in time to see Robin heading towards him, another bundle of blankets piled up in her arms.

"Courtesy of Chopper and Nami," she chuckled lightly, faltering when she looked at his face. "Are you alright, Sanji?"

Whatever she saw was enough to cloud her expression, and he wished more than anything else that he was able to make his friends happy for once. He tried to smile (too little, too late), and winced when the line of her frown deepened. She laid her hand across his burning forehead and looked alarmed, tugging away the outermost layers of clothing from his thin frame. "You should have told me. How long were you planning to bake yourself underneath this heap?"

"I-it's okay," he muttered, flushing even worse under her worried gaze. "P-please don't...everyone w-worked really hard to…"

Her eyes scrutinized him, almost like she was trying to read another language. "You don't have to feel obligated to keep all of this on, Sanji."

He wanted to tell her how he felt that it was the only thing he could do right now, how his body and mind couldn't allow him anything more. It was the only thing that was making sense, and it wasn't for a lack of trying. Oh  _God,_ he was trying, and still it wasn't enough.

"...what e-else am I s-supposed to do?" he asked without meaning to. It was more of a question to himself, lost and empty.

Robin's reply was lost somewhere in the moment because that was when the second worst person chose to interrupt them, grin gleaming brighter than the gold dangling from his ears and neck. He stood tall and broad on the bottom of the steps to the main deck, taking up the space around him with his imperious presence, and there was something threatening about the lines of his bearing, the way his arms were folded across his chest.

Robin threw herself between Khalashtrogos and Sanji, and from her stance he could tell that she was ready to fight at the drop of a hat. "What are you doing here, Khalashtrogos?"

The King-captain held his hand up, not as a sign of truce but as an order to stand down. "Calm yourself, 'Devil Child'. If I put any stock in pleasantries, I would have taken offense at least ten different instances now. Luckily, I'm not here for that, but neither should you fly into a rage for it."

Sanji narrowed his eyes, but before his mind even finished forming an angry retort, Khalashtrogos turned his piercing gaze on him instead.

"You'll hold your tongue, won't you?" His smile had a nasty edge to it, like he dared Sanji to do otherwise. It was a gesture that should have grated on his nerves; it should have triggered the exact opposite.

For some reason, Sanji kept quiet.

"Smart boy. I'm not here to fight." Khalashtrogos looked up at the sun, now a couple of degrees off-center and beginning its descent into the horizon. His skin was bronze and gold in the glare from the sun, his face was free of that vivid face paint he had been wearing when they first met. It didn't make him look any less intimidating. "We're taking our leave, now, but there is unfinished business between our crews."

"I thought our business together was done," Robin snapped. "Wasn't it clear enough? There's nothing left to say or do, so leave."

His eyebrows shot up, but that was mostly an exaggerated expression; it was clear from the look in his eyes that he had expected this reaction from them. He sent a casual look across the deck, revealing a good number of his men watching from the shadows and spars of the ship. "Really. I'd hate to think that we were no longer welcome on this ship."

"You  _aren't_ welcome."

"That is a  _pity_ , impudent woman, because the last time I checked, this ship was in dire need of allies after you all started a fight while several of your members were on enemy territory, one of whom nearly  _died_ because of that foolishness. And that isn't even the worst part of this mess."

Khalashtrogos paused, glancing at Sanji as if he was waiting for him to supply the rest of the explanation. He must have been disappointed because Sanji had none (not even for himself), but if he was, the man didn't show it. "You must realize it yourself, if none of your crew does. HQ is not an opponent you can fight alone, not even between the nine of you. Besides power, you lack knowledge and resources, and you'd be a fool to turn away an offer of help."

"Why would we accept your help?" Robin said, covering for Sanji's silence with her own anger. He caught a glimpse of the worry in her eyes and looked away, ashamed.  _I can't even talk, let alone defend her. Why can't I say anything?_

Khalashtrogos shrugged, his gaze flickering between the pair. Sanji wanted to think it was because he was bored and unimpressed by them, but the truth was that he looked like he was analyzing them down to the smallest minutiae.

He didn't know which of those bothered him more.

"Your friend over there seems to want it," Khalashtrogos said, nearly crushing Sanji under the sudden attention. "Don't you?"

Did he want it? He wasn't sure, not when the weight of their stares was driving him further and further into the ground. Unfortunately,  _Thousand Sunny_  did not mercifully swallow him into her hold, as much as he pleaded with her in his head.

Attention never really got to him before; he was as capable as handling the spotlight as he was at shrugging it away, slipping under the radar when it suited him. But lately, everything had been about him, his wants and needs, about his condition and whatever was best for him. This wasn't how being on the crew was supposed to feel, like they were sheltering him from every little thing like he was too weak to handle anything.

Reluctantly, because he knew that Khalashtrogos' men were waiting along the periphery of  _Sunny's_ deck, gauging his response and that of their captain, Sanji asked, "I-I...if y-you...you actually want to help?"

"Don't sound so surprised, boy. Anyone who can force HQ into an actual retreat has more than earned this offer. If you want to pursue this any further, I'd be more than happy to give you whatever you need to take them down." Khalashtrogos smiled dangerously, a thin-lipped, dark look that Sanji would have been terrified to be on the receiving end of. But he could see that it wasn't meant for him. "I have more than enough reason to want every trace of that bastard wiped off this miserable earth."

It was a tempting offer; Sanji and his crew knew practically nothing about their enemy, and Khalashtrogos was extending that knowledge to them and more, from the sound of it. Supplies, maybe? Aid in finding the Project? Actual manpower?

There had to be a catch.

"What do you want in return?" he asked, wincing as the words fell out of his mouth in a jumble. He wasn't stuttering much anymore, but his words felt as messy and crumbled as he felt on the inside. Khalashtrogos' help was something he didn't want to accept, but he couldn't imagine doing anything else in the face of such an obvious ploy. Those men perched on the rigging and beams and railings weren't for show; he didn't have to wonder at what they would do if he refused. Khalashtrogos wanted something.

Sanji quickly noticed who was missing among the men in the group. "You're here because of Balkos, aren't you?"

Khalashtrogos grinned wider. "He's soft on you, for whatever reason, but I have other concerns on my mind when it comes to this."

"He lied to me, and it was because of you!" Sanji changed his mind; he wanted nothing to do with these bastards anymore, even if it came down to a fight. Where were the others? He and Robin  _needed_ them. "I-I'll...we'll deal with HQ on our own!"

"You have no choice but to accept our help, and you have nothing I want but respect." Khalashtrogos noticed the expression on his face and scoffed, looking more annoyed than offended. "Don't look at me like that, boy. When someone offers to ally themselves with you, they deserve your respect. You're angry because of some lie that  _I_ told you, through him, and yet neither of us owed you a thing back then. You have no right to your anger."

 _"How dare you."_  Robin's frame was wavering, glowing, and what looked like the beginning of a projection stood before them, a fusion of limbs and refracted light that was slowly forming something cohesive at her side. He'd never seen her use her powers like that, and he didn't know if he wanted her to. Especially not for this. "You don't know Sanji; you have no idea how much you hurt him. You have no right to his  _respect_."

"Am I asking him for something impossible?" Khalashtrogos narrowed his eyes, one of his hands tapping patiently on the sword at his side. "He was naive, and he learned something, didn't he? What I'm asking for is very simple, and I believe he's realized it just now."

Sanji moved almost unnoticed by the two of them, and hesitantly, he reached out to touch Robin's arm. She stiffened and looked at him, dropping her arms to her sides and letting her "shadow" vanish into thin air. "He's right, Robin."

Khalashtrogos was silent as he faltered across the lawn, stopping within a few paces of him and his men. He couldn't raise his head at all, for whatever reason, and he felt like he was trying to swallow his own heart when he opened his mouth to speak. "I-I…f-for my lack of-of…I apologize for my behavior, and for my disrespect towards you and your men."

"...men, would you believe a statement like that, out of the blue?" Khalashtrogos looked at his men, who glared at Sanji and showed him exactly how much they believed him at the moment. "Pretty words, but empty."

That wasn't enough. Of course. When he had insulted Balkos, he had also insulted Khalashtrogos, and that was probably unforgivable in his eyes. Whether or not that anger was justified...no, it wasn't justified, for all intents and purposes. He had been an idiot and expected something where there was nothing, a friend where there was nothing but an impersonal gaze and some empty lies. And behind all of that, something that he wasn't strong enough to even face anymore.

_Don't pick a fight that you can't finish, idiot._

"Wait." Sanji dropped to his knees, head bowed, and swallowed his pride in the only way he could think of. He was distinctly aware of the way the grass prickled at his palms, and how his hands looked against the thin green blades, bruised and battered and pale. His left hand looked foreign to him, with two of his fingers bound up in that ugly splint; his right looked no better swathed in gauze and tape. Everything was a testimony to how much he had messed up, and this apology was only another indignity.  _I can do this._

"I...was wrong," he admitted, focusing on the smell of the grass underneath him, the sea breeze rumpling the sails overhead, the sun beating down on all of them. It lessened the sting of taking responsibility for his own mistakes...and it helped soften the blow when Khalashtrogos brought his foot down on his head.

Somewhere from behind them, Robin's voice was dripping with murder. "You  _bastard-_ "

"It's okay, Robin," Sanji said, not feeling much of anything but a slight pressure on the back of his head. He was so detached from the whole situation; it was like a dream. "He hasn't hurt me."

"Do I still deserve your respect, boy?" Khalashtrogos asked, seriously.

Sanji didn't understand why the man asked him that but complied as best as he could. He bit his lip and nodded, wincing when the pressure increased and stopped only once the tip of his nose had touched the dirt. Then, Khalashtrogos stepped back and allowed him to get up, promising him that the worst of it was over. Trembling, Sanji did as he was told, feeling like the whole world was spinning madly around their ship. It wasn't dizziness, but a deep, deep disorientation.

"I wouldn't have actually hurt you."

Sanji raised his eyes towards Khalashtrogos' face, suddenly feeling like he had done something right for the first time in weeks. "You're a-assuming that's what I c-care about," he answered, resting his grass-stained hands in his lap. They had stopped trembling, he noted. "I don't do anything for myself."

He looked taken aback for a moment, but his composure was back before he even realized it, so that Sanji was left wondering if he had imagined it. "You really do remind me of that Duparis."

He didn't get the chance to ask who or what he was talking about; Khalashtrogos turned and announced that he would leave one of his men behind to act as their escort should they need to meet up again. "We'll leave you two alone, I suppose. Give your captain my regards, won't you?"

Robin fell next to him with a cry, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. Tenderly. Sanji couldn't remember being held like this in a long time. "Khalashtrogos...don't you lay a hand on him again. Don't you dare do this again!"

"I promise, I promise," the King-captain called over his shoulder, informal and weary. "I will not lay a hand on you."

There were no tears, but he could hear her weeping deep inside her chest. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for making her suffer, that he really was alright and unharmed. But nothing came up except for a knot of tears, wedged tight in his throat, and he stayed quiet instead. He closed his eyes and sank into her embrace, deciding not to tell her that Khalashtrogos' promise was to him, for whatever it was worth.  _He won't lay a hand on any of you, because then he won't have to worry about anything but the fact that I will kill him the day he does. That's_ my  _promise._

* * *

Luffy knew what Zoro was feeling, that angry, pent-up frustration of being unable to do anything to help Sanji. It was a feeling they hadn't been able to shake off for a while, and having no one around to take it out on was wearing their nerves thin. But to Luffy, the important factor in this was Sanji, and not how they were feeling. That he was safe and sound was a comfort on its own; making sure that HQ never got near him again was another.

This was why they were down here, questioning Sardoc for any trace of that bastard, or any of the other bastards involved in the Project. Sure, it was humiliating to have to ask him for any sort of help, but Luffy didn't mind it as long as he was able to do something. Protecting someone meant forgetting about your own wellbeing, and he was learning it sometimes involved crappy stuff like this. Besides, letting Sardoc believe he had the upper hand meant that he was more willing to cooperate with them.

 _As long as he believed we were on our hands and knees, begging for his help, he didn't resist so much._ Luffy watched Zoro hold a one-sided shouting match with the man, grinning when his crewmate stomped away from the table indignantly. "This guy is the biggest shit; he can't even shout back at me, I swear to-"

"I feel like I shouldn't have to keep mentioning this, but he's really out of it now." Law looked way too pleased about this, holding a fresh IV bag as though it was a weapon. "You have a few more minutes, mostly because I don't want to rush him back under so quickly. It will kick in as soon as I start, though, so ask away now."

"I-I...can't s-see the f-fairies anymore," Sardoc mumbled, looking up at the bright lights curiously.

Law glanced down at him like he was very reluctantly feeling sorry for him. "Good luck, Strawhat."

"Thanks," Luffy said, pulling Zoro back to the surgery table before he could sneak off to get his hands on another bottle of alcohol from  _Qise's_ stores. "We'll be done soon. Sardoc, can you hear me?"

He blinked in a way that said he was dead tired and confused, and Luffy felt bad for what he had been put through. From what he had told them, not even the Project cared about him. "I-I answered all your q-q-questions…"

"It's just one more, I promise." Luffy knelt down by the table and rested his arms on the edge of the railing. "Tell us what the Project really wants."

"Th-they want the p-peace-"

"That's what they told you to tell us," Zoro scowled, accidentally snapping off one of his gloves while he was trying to pull it on. It flew across the room, hitting Law in the back of the head. They glared at each other before the swordsman turned his attention back to Sardoc. "What about Sanji? Why'd they try to kill him after they said they'd buy him off us? What the hell is their problem?"

"Sardoc, do you know what they want with Sanji? The Key?" Luffy thought he had almost struck something when Sardoc opened his eyes, looking like he had something urgent to say.

"...i-in his eyes," he smiled, finally drifting off under all of those drugs Law had pumped into his system. He looked very different this time, but at the same time he was still Sardoc, only actually happy, sort of. "H-he's all blue..."

It was about as helpful as Zoro putting a new exit in the surgery room wall, which he did with great, violent gusto. Their lead had gotten them nothing.

* * *

She led him down to the Soldier Dock system, both of them lost in thought as the events of the afternoon slowly began to sink in. Neither of them spoke on the way, at first, but then Robin begin to notice that Sanji was walking just a little bit closer to her, shying away a little bit more from the narrow walls, holding a whimper back when the sound of standing water filled the enclosed space around them. He squeezed his eyes shut and fell to his knees in front of the door to Channel 4, shaking from head to toe.

"Sanji?" She knelt down next to him but didn't reach out to grab his shoulders; lately she had noticed that he reacted differently to touch, oftentimes in a negative way. "...it's alright, we can come back another time if you're not up to it."

He shook his head desperately, and  _oh_ he was hyperventilating now, wasn't he? "I-I'm fine, I can do th-this…"

The space was too small, she realized, from the way his eyes darted around, looking for an escape. She had no idea what the Project had done to him on that island, but HQ for one would start off paying back for all of it. That was neither in the here nor now, though. "That's right, Sanji. You can. Just focus on your breathing right now, okay?"

Sanji frowned but seemed willing to comply, following her lead as she counted off each inhale and exhale until he no longer had to lean against the wall to keep himself upright. His gaze was still distant, however, and his focus kept drifting back upwards, to the door at the top of the ladder. "Th-the well-?"

_"Sanji!"_

He shot up, back straight and taut and vibrating with nervous energy. His eyes (wide, almost unseeing in his panic) were fixed on the door labelled '4'.  _"Guppy?"_

The voice sounded from Channel 4 again, this time more agitated and mournful than before. Considering the sounds coming from behind the door, it wasn't the only one that had noticed they were there.  _"Sanji! Sanji, please come back!"_

Sanji lunged for the door, leaving Robin to follow after him as closely as she could, fear pounding in her chest. She tried to ignore the thin scratches he'd left behind on the wall in the middle of his panic.

The door was left swinging behind him, but she couldn't bring herself to do more than stop and lean against it, watching the scene before her with a sad smile on her face. Sanji had thrown his arms around the three sea creatures, gathering them up as well as he could and failing, but they all did their best to draw as close to him as they could. Tentacles and tails and extra body parts everywhere: they looked more like a fusion of silhouettes and monsters instead of the "sea babies" that her friend kept calling them. But he was smiling more freely than he had in weeks, and somehow that was enough for her.

(It did hurt a little to know that he didn't feel as comfortable coming to her or the others for solace, but this wasn't about her, it wasn't about them. It was about what Sanji needed at the moment, and when he needed them he'd come looking for them.  _That's the way it is sometimes._ )

The oldest of them, apparently, squeezed him even tighter and sobbed into his shoulder, claws looking dangerously close to ripping through the arm of his shirt. "You left, you left, Sanji! You didn't look back!"

Sanji nodded and apologized over and over again, the words spilling out easier than when Khalashtrogos had practically forced him to the floor to drag those apologies out of him. "Shh, I know. I'm sorry, I won't leave you again."

"Promise?" The strange little sea beast asked, whimpering.

"Promise," he chuckled, burying his face into its long, tangled hair that hung like seaweed over its shoulders.

"Never ever ever?" it insisted, black eyes pleading and oddly bright against its glittering scales.

"Never ever  _ever_." Robin closed her eyes and pretended she didn't see the tears gleaming on his cheeks in the soft light of the compartment. She almost felt like she was intruding on a private moment.

But Sanji turned to her then, smiling weakly but with that same pure happiness in his expression, no less dim just because it was her instead of the "sea babies". "R-Robin, these are the sea beasts. They're only babies, but they're really kind and good once you get to know them."

Robin smiled at them brightly, crouching down next to Sanji to greet them. "Hello, sea babies. My name is Robin, and I'm so happy to meet you."

"The Twits are babies, Sanji," the oldest of them pointed out matter-of-fact. "I take care of them, _please_ remember. Hello, Robin, I am Guppy."

They looked at her curiously, craning their neck to look at her back for something. "You look like an angel, not a bird. Do you have wings?"

She couldn't help but to laugh, and she was relieved to hear Sanji's laughter join hers, echoing up towards the ceiling, out the door, and into the passage that led to the upper deck. Guppy didn't seem to get what was so funny, and they settled for pouting in Sanji's lap, poking little holes into the hem of his sweater. "I don't get it…"

Their laughter didn't last long, as Sanji raised a hand to his temple and grimaced, bringing their moment of amusement to a close. "...Robin, can we get them out of here?"

She draped his arm around her shoulders and drew him to his feet, trying not to worry when he took more than a moment to find his balance. "I'm ready to leave this place, too. Sea babies, will you join the rest of the crew upstairs now?"

"Eh, if Sanji really wants to." Guppy furrowed their brow, prodding Sanji carefully until he reached down to stroke their head.

"I really do," he choked, and Robin took that as her cue to get them all moving. He stirred somewhere between the energy room and the stairs leading to the lawn, slowly blinking as though he was in a daze. Or as if he'd just surfaced into an open area after suffering a panic attack in an admittedly claustrophobic place.

"Robin?" he mumbled blearily.

Robin nudged him, hoping that the cool night air would rouse him further. "You're still with me, Sanji?"

"Yeah, but…" He looked away, uncertainty a shadow across his face. "I was thinking a-about the thing with K-Khalash-t-tro-trogos...please don't tell Luffy about it."

Robin gave him a long, hard look. She felt sympathy for him, and more than that, but at the same time his request was a tricky piece of work. "The captain should know what's happening on his own ship."

"I know." Sanji looked up at her with hard eyes, and every ounce of pain and sadness was gone from his expression. Fleetingly, she wondered if these were the eyes that Khalashtrogos saw when he looked at Sanji. "I want to be the one to tell him."

"Will you be alright?"

He closed his eyes and nodded heavily, sliding to the ground when they reached the edge of the lawn. She sank down with him, feeling as exhausted as if she had just run a mile. Taking his hand into hers, she was relieved that he didn't pull away but instead rested his head against her shoulder.

As the sea babies clambered all over the pair to get comfortable, she shifted and made more room for them, unsurprised to find that Sanji was already fast asleep. She wished that she still had that mountain of clothes he had been wearing earlier; he was shivering in the breeze coming up from the sea. Sighing, she wrapped her arms around him and waited, looking out across the inky sea with sleep-heavy eyes and a tiredness deep in her bones.

_I know it's not going to get any easier...but please...for tonight, let him sleep deeply. Let him escape this for a while._

The crew found them some time later, for which Robin was desperately grateful (her toes were aching from the cold in these wretched sandals). They looked at her questioningly, they  _asked_ her questions, and then everyone breathed out in unison, relieved when Sanji muttered quietly in his sleep.

They all looked back at Robin for an explanation.

"It's been a long day," she sighed, letting them help her to her feet, feeling Sanji being taken from her arms, and finding that she really had nothing else to say.

* * *

Sanji woke for a short time near midnight; he wasn't sure how he knew that, but that was less important than what he woke up  _to_.

"Zoro?" he mumbled, trying to lift his head from the downy pillow. It was to no avail; his limbs were as heavy as lead. He didn't know whose bed it was, but it was comfortable enough that he didn't mind being unable to move, however confused he might be. "W-what are you…? The w-word thing, how could I forget?"

Zoro was standing over him, his face shadowed and unreadable in the dark. "You should try to rest," he said quietly.

"What?" Why wasn't he more concerned with their talk? He had promised they would finish talking, and they were both awake and ready now, weren't they? "You said tomorrow, and it's been…a lot of tomorrows. When's tomorrow gonna come, Mosshead?"

A strange half-smile flitted across his face, and Zoro let out an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh before pushing Sanji back onto the pillows. "As many as it takes for you to stay awake for it, Curlicue. Now rest and maybe tomorrow will come."

He felt himself nod with the last of his energy, and for the first time he couldn't find it in himself to argue with him. He felt a blanket being draped over him, his eyes too heavy with sleep to open anymore, and then Zoro's low voice muttered  _"sleep"_  somewhere above his head. He sank deeper into exhaustion.

And later…

There was a slight gap in his consciousness, like the space between falling asleep and waking up, and he could see Zoro clearly even though his eyes were closed. It was like he was seeing through his eyelids, everything that was going on as he slept. An out-of-body experience. He wasn't afraid, though; Zoro was still at his side.

His crewmate carefully slipped another pillow under his head, his fingers a brief cradle for a moment. He felt the rough pads of Zoro's fingers as he carded through his hair, tracing out the place where he had been injured during their conversation weeks ago. He still couldn't read Zoro's expression, but he did feel Zoro's thumb brush across his cheek, right underneath his eye.

Sanji felt himself turn away, leaving his body and Zoro and the bed behind. For some reason, he knew that if he looked back, he wouldn't see them anymore. And still he wasn't afraid, not when he knew these hallways from what seemed like a lifetime ago. A different lifetime.

The walls used to be so high, the doors unfathomably big. He walked past them and didn't have to look up anymore, and he knew exactly where he was.  _I know who will be there if I open this door...o-or that one. The one here always got stuck so that even the adults had to fight with it._ The once endless hallways of doors upon doors faded away into a kitchen, warm and cheery like the summer sky on the waterways. His heart began to pound, vibrating and swelling in his chest as he sat down at the table, mindful of the silhouette at the sink. He stretched his legs out, accidentally kicking that old windup merry-go-round he always hid under there, and a sweet little melody filled the room, bringing a smile unbidden to his lips.

Sanji looked at the silhouette standing at the counter, and he knew who it was, and still his stomach was fluttering with butterflies. It had been so, so long, longer than he could even imagine. His love still tapped out a happy beat in his heart, and the fluttering leaked into his chest, the most honest feeling in the world. He could soar with that love and dive as deep, even if it was just for the moment.

The silhouette shifted, and there was her back, shoulders strong and steady as always, hair a rosy cascade of curls and swirls. It was hard to see in the light coming from the windows along the counter, but he watched her turn towards him, that beautiful curve of a smile shining brighter than all of the sunlight around them. "Didn't expect to see you here, Swirly Baby."

Sanji beamed, feeling as bright and warm as that smile was. "...honestly, I didn't expect it either, Mima."


	34. Interlude: Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji is still tearing at the seams, yearning for a past that no longer has a place for him and a future that looms uncertain at the horizon. In the present, the crew struggles to keep him anchored to the way things are now after Staithe.

Mima's gaze cut through Sanji, through his joy, his excitement, and his heart with such ease that he didn't even feel his smile falter until a child's voice carried into the room from the doorway. "I wanted to see you Mima! Are you happy to see me?"

Mima didn't look at him this time; she hadn't even seen him from the  _start_. Her smile, which was so bright and beautiful to look at, now chilled him as its warmth passed him over in favor of the child behind him. Shoving his chair back to leap to his feet, he didn't make so much as a whisper of noise, if the room's other occupants' behavior was anything to go by. It was like he wasn't even there.

Sanji's hands slipped through her, and the rest of him followed unbidden as Mima stepped towards the child. He didn't bother opening his mouth; any sound of dismay or protest would have fallen on deaf ears.  _Deaf to me, at least._ His smile already tasted bitter.

"Of course I am!" she laughed, a melody to his ears. Her voice was warm and sweet like the rose perfume clinging to her skin and hair, like the prettiest pink in her cheeks, blooming like spring. "I wanted to see you, too. Are you done playing?"

"Isa fell asleep."

"Isa is...oh. _Oh_." Mima's eyes went wide in surprise, and although Sanji saw it as nothing out of the ordinary, he realized that to her, this announcement was special. "He has been in need of a break for some time now...this is excellent news, Swirly Baby."

"Yes-" the child nodded eagerly "-he looks so pretty sleeping so I wanted to not make noise.  _Mima!"_

He made himself turn around at the sound of the child's squeal. Mima had dropped to her knees and thrown her arms around him; even with the curtain of curls obscuring his view, he would have had to make a conscious effort not to recognize the little boy in his mother's arms.  _I saw that face grow up in the mirror my whole life..._

"Come, I simply cannot bear it," Mima exclaimed, scooping the child Sanji up and swinging him around, drawing out another peal of laughter from him. "You are too darling, Sanji. My dear, darling boy blue!"

Sanji could almost feel the flush of thrill and joy that must have swelled in his younger self's chest, leaving his cheeks dark pink. His eyes must have shared the boy's childish twinkle, and the same smile must have stretched across their faces.

"Mima, you have to be quiet!" the child giggled. "Isa is sleeping!"

"Mm, I think the one who has to be quiet is  _you!"_ Mima chuckled and playfully tapped his round button nose. They laughed and crinkled their noses at the same time; they were so sweet that Sanji swore he couldn't have gotten his blood sugar to rise this much if he had swallowed down a shiphold's worth of candy. He watched them nuzzle together, grins so broad that it might have hurt. Still, they smiled even wider as Mima pressed their foreheads together, looking earnestly into the child's big blue eyes. "Fine, let's play a quiet game, so your pretty Isa can sleep. Do you want to be 'Silly Navigators' today?"

"I want to find All Blue!"

"I thought you wanted to be quiet for Isa?" Mima teased, laughing as the child pouted and tugged at her cheeks. "Alright, alright. I know just how to keep it quiet without spoiling our fun."

One curled brow rose in an elegant arch, but her eyes promised a plainer, more ordinary kind of solution; full of mischief and good humor, they gleamed. "We're going into the Quiet Tent."

The child's eyes lit up like stars. "The Quiet Tent!"

Mima brought a finger to her lips, making a small 'o' shape with her mouth, a gesture for softer noises.  _Quiet, quiet._ Their movements from that point on were careful and hushful. Tiny giggles and bumps punctuating their setting up of the Quiet Tent, a sprawling mass of a blanket fort that took over the kitchen in a way Sanji would never have tolerated in his own domain, and yet he would have torn down everything he owned to share even a sliver of the happiness that the curly-browed pair had between them now. Every inch of him ached for it  _so much_.

Biting his lip, he watched them act out their adventures on the padded floors of their tent, on bare feet. Fueled by the child's avid imagination, the tent transformed into strange, beautiful lands, or so he claimed.

Sanji believed him. He could almost feel the white desert wind on his skin, could almost see the blood ruby earth of a distant continent, could almost taste the sweet salty brine of a Blue only his dreams could truly hold. But one thing he was certain of was Mima, clear like daylight, down to only a pair of white breeches and shirt as even waistcoat and cravat were abandoned to the folds of the linen ground. His eyes drank in the sight like water for the parched; she was all dynamic lines and theatrical energy and so  _alive_ ( _she's alive,_  Sanji lied to himself). It was no wonder that neither Sanji nor the child could take their eyes off her.

Whether or not the tent actually muffled their noise and excitement, the pretty sleeping Isa never once woke up, and there was a kind of magic surrounding it, whispers of silk and cotton amidst their low laughter and muted steps. When the triumphant child found his All Blue, Mima celebrated with a graceful, reverent bow and a kiss to his fingers. When she held her arms out to him, he didn't hesitate to fall into their embrace.

When Sanji, watching like an outsider to his own life, realized that he couldn't remember the feeling of his mother's arms wrapped around him, that he would never get the chance to experience it again, he couldn't bring himself to be anything less than heartbroken.

Sitting back down in the kitchen chair, Sanji gave himself a front row seat to a childhood memory that he had lost the privilege of remembering. His breath came out in shallow, quiet puffs. He curled up on himself like it was the only way he could keep his nervous, fidgeting self together. He formed habits, things that would never stop following him. His hands fiddled in his lap, scratching, picking at the scabs over his knuckles, and for once, he didn't care about them. He grieved for a life that he would never get to remember outside of dreams. Tears streamed out of his eyes like all the blue color was just leaking out through widening cracks but through it all, his smile remained.

* * *

 

Chopper was, he'd concede, knowledgeable on many subjects. He had his head on straight most of the time, and Zoro respected his authority more than he let on. Infrequently, he was...wide of mark and Chopper was...in the right regarding the limitations and weaknesses of his own body against his occasionally "grievous" injuries. He could admit these things in the secret, humble part of him that held secret, humble things like this. Zoro was kind like that.

But, in this instance, Chopper was  _wrong_. There was no way Sanji's fever was so dangerously high, not when his own flush had to outmatch the heat coming off Sanji's skin by spades. If, in fact, this were to be true, then that would make Zoro's face the temperature of the godforsaken  _sun_.

He knew this because of Sanji's monsters, specifically that damnable little Fishtail. It had looked up from its moping at the mention of the human it was so obsessed with, and once his malady had a name, the wretched thing decided it knew exactly what Sanji needed: a compress in the form of Zoro's face shoved against his chest.

Now, they were both burning up at impossible, inhuman degrees, and no one managed to do a thing to help them. Getting that Fishtail to release him would have been good; killing him would have been merciful. It had a surprisingly powerful grip and a godawful, unnatural strength, the wretched beast.

Chopper had stopped talking now, his harried speech stammering to a halt between the moment he had tried to explain this "fever" and the instant that Sanji opened up his eyes to Zoro's own panicked gaze.

A bewildered, hazy expression settled across his face, but strangely that was the extent of his reaction. There was no horrified screech, no trainwreck kick slamming him into the nearest wall, none of the indignant insults that usually accompanied an embarrassing or unexpected encounter with the cook. Zoro might have preferred any of those instead of the uncertain, not-entirely-unwilling look that Sanji had fixed him with. It was a question, he didn't know what it was asking, and he hated that kind of question. So Zoro did the only thing that made sense and screamed the way Sanji should have. Or he tried, seeing as his cheek was still smashed against Sanji's chest and all that came out was a funny half-groan.

The impish little monster finally let him go and he stumbled away from the bed, crashing against the opposite bunk with some of the nice parts of his body. Ah, that was his head, the space between his shoulder blades, and his favorite sword arm.

Chopper pounced on Sanji immediately, glad to have a distraction from the tension in the room. "That's weird. Your fever broke, but you still look flushed. Zoro, you're looking a little red too. Are you okay?"

"Mm," they muttered noncommittally. They couldn't look at each other; Sanji busied himself with smoothing the covers while Zoro let his head thump back against the bunk's frame.

"They're fine, Chopper." Nami rolled her eyes and leaned her crutches on Zoro's shoulder as she sat down on the edge of the bed; that leg would probably bother her for a long time. "Just the usual from our favorite morons. How are you feeling today, Sanji?"

He nodded his head to show that he had heard her, but embarrassment kept him quiet for a little longer. When he opened up his mouth to really speak, it wasn't to Nami. "What were you doing, Guppy? With…?"

He gestured vaguely in Zoro's direction. Zoro wondered if he should appreciate being considered before Nami or not.

"Sanji was sick...I thought…" Fishtail, or rather Guppy, frowned at Zoro like he was the source of all its troubles and not the other way around. He glared back and hoped it felt the venom in his stare. "Moss."

Sanji glanced at Zoro then, at his hair.

 _He wouldn't dare do this now,_ Zoro thought _. No, are things really going back to normal so soon? After all that worry and fear and guilt, is he really going to-?_

Sanji started to shake with laughter, silent at first, then bursting out loud. Wild, cackling laughs that looked painful after a while, from the way his was clutching his sides. "E-even the sea babies recognize that clumpy, greeny mop of yours for what it is!"

Oh, now he was really going to have Fishtail for dinner. And that damn Curlicue was going to cook it for him. "Sh...shut up, Shitbrow! It's not my fault your monsters are so...you know what, even if my hair  _was_ moss, it wouldn't cure all  _your_ problems, so there!"

"Oh?" Sanji was enjoying this too much, damn him. "But you would try anyway, just like now? Mossy, that's touching."

"I wasn't trying anything, you idiot! That  _thing_ was holding me down."

Sanji didn't seem to appreciate his tone when he referred to Fishtail. Er, Guppy or whatever. It was a sea thing, like that Bubbles, and the Fry bit.  _Who even came up with those names?_

"You're telling me-" Sanji scooped the monster up easily (possibly making Zoro look bad in front of everyone, damn it) "-that you couldn't get this little baby off you? Guppy? That 'thing'?"

"You're taking it like I don't have better ways to personally insult you," Zoro drawled, grinning when Sanji pushed himself up off the pillows to shove his ugly mug into his face. "I'm offended."

"Guppy is the best personal insult I will ever get," he bit out as Zoro pushed back. "And you  _should_ be offended, Grazing Lands!"

"Is that the best you can come up with, Decorative Hair?"

"Leave my facial hair out of it, Aquarium Gunk. Oh no, Guppy. I didn't mean the insult thing; you're wonderful."

"If by wonderful you meant weird, then I agree. You're wonderful, Sushi Roll."

"What did you just call her, Seaweed Head?"

"Idiot Brow, I said I'm having her for lunch."

"I must be going deaf because you did not just say that, Moss Planter."

"On top of being stupid? I'm not surprised...Dartboard face."

"Grassy knoll."

"Target practice!"

"Bamboo shoots! Panda fodder!  _Cattle feed!"_

"Dumbass Curly Prince from Stupid Cute Rainbow Rose World of... _fairytales that aren't even real!"_

It was Luffy who interrupted them first, falling into a fit of helpless giggles that frankly left them both feeling more than a little annoyed, for themselves and for each other. The others joined in after, and the room was filled with their laughter.

"You guys-" Luffy choked "-are hilarious. It's great; you're great. We're all great...right, Nami?"

"Yeah, we thought…" Nami blushed and looked away.

Robin finished for her with a patient smile. "It's been awhile since we were the privileged audience to one of your arguments. We were beginning to think that you would never remember them again."

Sanji huffed. "Nothing could make me forget this moss lump's idiocy."

"This idiot curl is annoying as ever; that much stays the same."

"Oh, shut up… Chopper, what are you doing?"

"I think you're long overdue for a thorough checkup," Chopper said unsurely. "It hasn't really been easy getting your feedback on them when you're asleep all of the time."

Sanji looked mortified, glaring in response to Zoro's sneer and everyone else's chuckles. "I-I wasn't really, was I?"

"Now who's the lazy bum?" Zoro grinned.

"It's still you," Usopp replied, cringing and diving behind Franky when Zoro shot him a withering look. "Ch-Chopper, checkup, please!"

"Right. Sanji?"

Sanji frowned and fidgeted with his hands. "Does it h-have to be right now? Like th-this?"

Chopper caught onto his meaning and whirled around on the others, shooing them away. Immediately, everyone bristled in anger; were they really about to be sent outside like kids under discipline, to wonder blindly about what in the world was going on with Sanji?

The doctor was adamant about this matter, and he assumed Sanji was the reason behind it. "He doesn't need everyone ogling him like this is a theater, so if you have to stay, face the wall. I mean it!"

It was awkward and uncomfortable, standing in a line against the far wall of the room. Everyone minus Sanji's monsters had their noses nearly pressed to the wooden panels; the grain of the wood was so distinct. Nami needed to lean against someone to stay upright, and Luffy under obligation to keep still was a menace, a wreck, and an annoyance to the poor fools closest to him. Franky was already sporting several new scrapes and a very painful splinter from trying to keep him in line.

"You're all idiots," Sanji grumbled from the bed amidst a rustling of blankets and clothes and the occasional scratch-y scraping of scales on wooden floorboards. "Like a lot, except for the ladies."

"Thank you, Sanji," Nami and Robin chorused half-heartedly; when Zoro snuck a look at them, they could barely hide their smiles.  _Heh, they're probably the biggest idiots of us all._

Luffy, suddenly straight-backed and serious, answered Sanji's complaint with one of his rare captain tones. "None of us wants to leave, Sanji. Deal with it."

"Hey, now. It's just been a really long time since we were all together like this-" Chopper glanced sheepishly at the irritated crew facing the wall "-well, sort of like this, only with more togetherness. We really missed you, Sanji."

Sanji was quiet for a long, long time, leaving them wondering if he was going to ignore them for the rest of the checkup. Only his low conversation with Chopper let them know that he was even awake and still aware of his surroundings. Finally, after a lot of hemming and hawing under his breath, he called to them in exasperation, reluctantly: "You suck, so much."

"So do you," they answered as one, grinning, when they meant  _we care about you, too_.

Suddenly, he gave a sharp cry, and Zoro needed no other reason to disregard orders and turn around. Funnily enough, the rest of the crew seemed to have had the same thought.

Chopper was upon them like a thunderstorm in his Heavy Point, glaring hard enough to startle even Zoro into grabbing his closest companion by the arm (it turned out to be the unflappable Robin, of course).  _"Keep away from my patient."_

"He's in pain," Zoro shot back when he found his voice, though he didn't release Robin's arm from his grip.

"I know that." Chopper looked stricken at having to say that out loud, making Zoro regret talking back to him. It was a look that couldn't be allowed to cross his face again. "I know."

"It's okay," Sanji coughed, "I was just startled. I'm not in…"

He didn't bother even finishing; they all knew it was a lie.

Chopper let them all return to the bed, where Sanji had the sheets pulled up to his chest again, covering up whatever it was he didn't want them to see. Zoro wasn't blind; he saw the looks that passed between him and Franky and Usopp. They were hiding something, looking guilty, resentful, and uncomfortable, respectively. Quietly, he tried to gauge which of the three might crack first if he interrogated them about it.

"I...I'm going to have to restrict all of your activity, Sanji," Chopper said reluctantly. "This isn't a good sign, and whether or not you like it, you're gonna have to deal with it."

"Okay."

"Oh." He looked surprised that he didn't find more resistance to his orders, but pleased. It wasn't often that one of his patients was cooperative. "I'm also going to extend your bedrest."

Zoro winced. Sanji was not going to take that order well, and he could sympathize with him. There was nothing more frustrating than having your weaknesses laid out on display for everyone to see. At least returning to a normal routine made injuries easier to tolerate.

Sanji groaned. "Chopper-"

"Don't  _Chopper_ me," he said, pushing Sanji back onto the pillows still strewn across the bed. "However you got yourself back on your feet after surviving a disease that, by all medical prognostics and possibilities, should have killed you, it's apparent that you didn't escape unscathed. Your body needs some downtime. Convalescence. Re-cuper- _ation_. You don't even know how dehydrated you were when we picked you up off that island, do you?"

Sanji's silence was enough of an answer for all of them, though Zoro wondered whether they noticed the shadow that flitted across his face, something that was deeper than shame. He found himself wishing that he knew what was going on unsaid in Sanji's mind. They were no closer to learning anything about what had happened on Staithe. About what happened to him. It was getting to the whole crew, and yet Sanji refused to do anything about it.  _Maybe bedrest will drive him crazy enough to spill something._

Chopper took a deep breath. "Alright, besides the mandatory twenty-two hour minimum period in bed: no heavy lifting, no light lifting, no lifting anything other than your little finger. No lifting period. No bending to get stuff, no stretching to get stuff, just do not bother getting anything. Backflips, jumps, handstands, and other fight stuff are all off limits. Your feet are to remain flat on the ground the whole time you're up, unless you're sitting, in which case your feet should be propped up and cushioned."

"How w-would you like me to walk?" Sanji said, raising his brow.

"Slow, awkward, shuffling. I want to see the scuff marks on your shoes."

"Maybe that's going a little far," Nami said gently, but Chopper would have no one coming to Sanji's defense on the matter.

"I will have my scuff marks," he repeated, nudging Sanji with the tines of his horns. Sanji sighed, an agreement, and raised his hands in surrender to the doctor's terms.

Bedrest and scuff marks it was.

* * *

 

Life on board a pirate ship was really, really exhausting on a good day; on a bad day it could be downright brutal. On board five ships, however...well, Usopp assumed that hell was made up of pirate alliances and angry, burly strangers in mobs. _Er, crews._

He'd retreated to the sleeping quarters to glean every last bit of material he could from his personal things; like he had predicted, lingering out on the sea had left them with a scarcity of supplies, and the ships all needed damage control from Staithe on top of their regular upkeep. There was also Franky, who insisted that he had everything taken care of though Usopp could see him struggling with broken, malfunctioning joints. He hoped that his more complex inventions could offer up spare replacements for something, anything to make Franky's life a little easier. Port still seemed so far away.

He made it halfway through the door when he remembered the near-permanent resident of the men's quarters. Sanji had his back to Usopp, shirt halfway off his shoulders when he heard him enter the room. He stiffened visibly.

“Oh, sorry,” Usopp stammered, tripping over one of Sanji’s monsters in his haste to leave. It growled low in its throat (throats?) but tucked its tail under its chin (chins? hell, he still didn’t know what to make of it) and continued napping in its dimlit corner. “Eeeh, I didn’t know you...I-I’m just gonna-”

"Stay."

Usopp stepped back, uncertain. "I thought...that you'd want-"

Sanji grinned wryly over his shoulder. His smile lacked any sort of light whatsoever. "I'm not going to make you leave. It's not just my room, right? Please...stay."

Nervously, he nodded and began rummaging through his things, careful not to raise his eyes or look in Sanji's direction as a general rule. None of them had ever asked for their privacy before; they had all sort of fit together along the unspoken boundaries they set as their crew grew, one by one. He wondered if that was what unsettled him, more than the thought of Sanji's body.

His stomach flipped; he hadn't meant to follow that particular train of thought. Without thinking, he lifted his gaze to snatch something up off the bed, scanning for anything else he might have missed. He guessed that maybe he just wanted reassurance that Sanji was alive, that he wasn't just an empty corpse in his arms, and that was why he found himself looking across the room at his scarred back. The dark, uneven purple bruise on his left shoulder blade stood out the most starkly, the angriest.

He felt all the blood drain from his face when he realized what that one was left over from.

"They're hideous, aren't they?" Sanji chuckled humorlessly as he shook out a fresh, clean shirt. "You can stare. It's okay; I know everyone's been dying for a look."

Usopp didn't like where this was going. "Sanji..."

"I guess I'm just trying to hold back the inevitable. It's okay if it's just for a while longer, right? With you, it's different; you already saw what it all looks like underneath. I don't mind being the sideshow for y-"

_"Shut up."_

Sanji stared like Usopp had just slapped him across the face.

Usopp didn't care; he felt sick and horrible and  _wrong_. "I hate that you're talking about yourself like that; it's awful. That isn't why everyone's curious and wondering and waiting to hear you talk. We were all just worried about you. Not knowing...it's hell."

He gestured angrily at the scar ( _it's a bullet wound, oh God Franky he was shot Ctena help someone please help_ ) and snapped, "knowing...I don't know if it's worse, but at least I'm not imagining the possibilities like they are."

The monsters had perked up again; Guppy's wide, dark eyes watched him from Sanji's bunk, not exactly threatening but judging. What did she know about their conversation, anyway? She wouldn't even be able to understand what they were talking about. But Sanji... _he_  had to understand this. Usopp had to get this across to him or he would never be able to move on, and that bullet wound would never be erased from his memory. "Somehow, I feel selfish even saying this, but Sanji, we couldn't even help you and it hurts so much."

"Usopp." Sanji's gaze was so forceful and so soft at the same time, like he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to convey right now. "You all...especially you and Franky, you've helped me more than you realize. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

Usopp narrowed his eyes suspiciously, wondering if being forcibly brought back to life had done more to Sanji than Ctena and the Medics had suggested. "You...um, you di-"

He choked. Even placing it behind a morbid joke, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud; it felt so raw.

"It's your turn to shut up." Sanji smiled, a little weak but genuine. He sat down on his bunk and toyed with the last buttons on his shirt; the state of his hands had weighed down his usual deftness. Giving up with the tiny buttons, he dropped his hands into his lap and looked up at Usopp helplessly. "Can I talk to you?"

Usopp wanted to say that they were already talking, but he then realized what Sanji was asking. He dropped down next to him on the bed, wincing when it jostled more than he meant it to. If it bothered Sanji, he didn't mention it.

"I'm on my two-hour bedrest break," he offered, and Usopp felt a little better at having a different kind of break, a pause to talk about normal things. Things that weren't so painful to hear.

"I was about to report you to the head surgeon," he grinned, and Sanji shoved him off the bed. "What? I'm just fulfilling my civilian duty."

"Quiet, he might hear you and change his mind."

"Oh, are you really supposed to be up, then? Sounds like someone's out to stir up trouble."

"You're the only troublemaker in the room," he said, biting down hard on his lip and clutching his hand to his stomach. He had gone a shade whiter and all the laughter had drained from his voice.

He was relieved when Sanji leaned against him, letting out an exhausted sigh. There was something warm and safe about sitting together like this after what they had gone through, even though they were all still suffering. “It feels like hunger.”

"Always?"

"Sometimes. Mostly I feel hollow, or hot. But the hunger is the worst part."

He’d gone hungry before, in the days after his mother’s death. But Sanji had gone _through_ hunger, days and days and nights of it, although Usopp couldn’t remember him ever talking about it so straightforward like this. Even Luffy, who probably heard the most of the story than anyone else on the crew, couldn’t tell them more than the barest gist of it. He couldn’t begin to imagine that he could understand that hunger, but he had to do _something_. “What can I do to help you?”

Sanji laughed softly. "You  _already_ did. You kept me together when all I wanted was to give up. I didn't even want to try fighting anymore when the Medics came to me with that idea to heal me. I was tired."

He felt his heart ache at the thought of Sanji forcing himself onward when he didn't believe he had anything left in him. "...they did you right, then. I couldn't have imagined you doing everything you did on that island like they must have. For the way things turned out, they did you some good."

"That they were able to keep me going this long…" Sanji muttered, touching the place above his heart gingerly. Usopp wondered if it still pained him, having forced himself to heal at an unnatural rate like that.

He shrugged. "They're still nuts, and you're off your rocker for going along with an abomination of a plan. Just don't 'determinate' yourself better like that again, for your sake."

"Why is it when Zoro does that it's okay but I try the same tactic and suddenly we're talking about abominations?" It was a joke, he could tell, but a bitter one. Usopp shrugged and continued it, knowing that drawing out one of Sanji's smiles was worth it at Zoro's expense.

"Who says he's not?"

Sanji blinked in surprise. A slow, thoroughly gleeful smirk spread across his face until even his eyes were dancing with it. "I knew you were my favorite."

“Anyone who’d make fun of Zoro with you would be your favorite,” Usopp retorted, although he was pleased. “We’ll tell him at the next port. Chopper will probably let you off the hook by then. The confrontation should be exciting and idiotic, like you guys always are.”

“About that...I was actually planning something else already.” Sanji leaned in, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes that matched the steely tone of his whisper. “I’m going after them.”

Usopp raised his brow. “Going after who?”

"The Medics. And Ctena's with them; I'll find them all, Three, Five, everyone. Please don't tell the others."

"...Sanji, I don't know if that's something the crew would agree to do. We've already been through a lot, and with our supplies and food so low...I don't think we even know where we're  _headed_ yet."

"I'm not asking you to come with me."

Usopp was taken aback. He bowed his head, unable to stop himself from laughing. It was just too much to handle; Sanji was being ridiculous. "What? That's crazy; we've followed Luffy against gods and zombies and the world itself. We'd follow each other  _anywhere_. Why don't you want us to come with you?"

"I just...wanted to hear you tell me that I'm making the right choice."

"And I want to hear you say that you're not going anywhere without us," Usopp shot back, folding his arms across his chest.

Sanji looked cornered, wounded.  _"I can't lose you again!"_

"Sanji, what are you-?"

"...nothing," he said breathlessly, a dangerous, wild look in his eyes. He dropped his gaze as though he realized how strange he sounded. "Usopp, if I told you that bad things happened to your friends because of bad things you did, what would you think?"

"I don't-" He froze, feeling an icy chill race down his back. "Sanji, is that what you think? That what happened to us is your fault? ...is that what Balkos told you?"

Sanji's face was turned away from him, but he saw the tiny drops of water on his hands, folded and resting in his lap. Teardrops.

When he moved to touch his shoulder, Sanji flinched and drew back with a shudder. Shaken, Usopp was unable to do more than let him get to his feet and leave. He didn't trust himself to speak; there was too much background noise inside and outside of his head to focus.  _That Balkos..._

Sanji moved in heavy, weary steps, like he couldn't shake off the numbness of sleep, or like chains. He bumped against the doorjamb, blinded by tears; the hands he had been unable to keep still in his lap now fumbled with the knob, clumsy and heavy. Usopp stopped him there and, caught, he let his hands drop to his sides. They couldn't really move out of the doorway; it was open and clear, but something kept them rooted to the spot. Fear, probably.

Usopp decided to break the silence first. "Did he…?"

"Balkos said shit," Sanji mumbled, but Usopp wasn't sure if he could believe him. He glanced out at the deck outside, where the pirate crews were gathering for what was bound to be another chaotic roundup. They were supposed to be meetings, but they never did turn out as planned. Too many captains, too many opinions and views and interests to get along like they wanted.  _At least Khalashtrogos and his group aren't around to hurt Sanji anymore._

Heart pounding, he scanned the crowd anyway.


	35. The Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension on board has not gotten any better with the return of their cook, and the Straw Hats must deal with all the extra members of their temporary "alliance", some of whom don't play nice. Meanwhile, Sanji takes stock of what he has left and tries to find his place in the center of things.
> 
> Coughing fits ensue in large quantities.

from Roronoa Quinto's logs, 1497

_This is a story that begins, at least for myself, within the feversweet days of Hespenia's eternal summer, when I first learned the love for my trade, the things that mapmaking imitates, and how death and passion walk hand in hand. For the sisters, who even now are loathe to leave each other's side, it begins at the end of a long road, in the cool, pleasant airs of the Abbey Chantephine that raised them together in charity and in love. The Witch Cise never talks about the beginning in terms of anything but the abstract, the distant. Perhaps it eases the hurt somehow, or perhaps there really is no other beginning for a Witch than the otherworldly._

' _Long, long ago, the world begins,' Cise says, turning those eyes upon me, eyes that are deep and dark like tidepools upon the shore; for moments I can understand the name 'Witch' and the rumors from which it comes. 'You know, it wasn't North, East, South, and West. Not at first.' The sisters gather with us then, on nights where the stars seem to sit large upon the horizon. Their hands lay folded together between them, like black and white birds, like doves. I rest my own on my captain's shoulder, who frees one of those pale hands from its nest to cover mine. The Witch Cise remains alone._

' _It was all one, all sea… all blue."_

* * *

The sea had melted into the sky.

At least, that was what the horizon looked like to Brook from the figurehead, a post he rarely took on the ship. It suited Zoro and Franky more; it suited the captain best. But Luffy was at the helm instead, surrounded by the crews and captains that had stayed with them at Staithe's former location, and for once he was not his energetic, forceful self. Everyone else was talking over him and he had long stopped fighting to be heard, but even at his most attentive, Luffy wasn't able to make himself care very much about what they had to say. Brook could see it in his posture, his frown; he was  _dying_ to move.

He wasn't just talking about the "meeting", or as Usopp referred to them, "voice death-matches". No, this had been weighing on the captain since the crew woke up to find Sanji deathly sick and suffering. Hadn't he ordered them out of the harbor regardless of what happened, with or without him? What about the struggle they'd had trying to get him to rest when he was injured? Didn't he promise Brook that he wouldn't let anything hurt them, no matter what? The truth of the matter was that Luffy needed action like he needed breathing. Doing nothing in the face of everything that Staithe threw at them was awful; if the crew felt helpless anger, the captain felt  _rage_.

And no one on these ships wanted to bend enough to move, so the arguing continued. The furrow between Luffy's brows deepened.

The topic of contention shifted from the inane to the bizarre, but the discussion always came back to their next course of action. Staithe was gone; what remained after surviving something like that? Leave it alone, the Pirate Captain said. Have nothing more to do with HQ or the island. But, Law would counter, there was still too much of a mystery surrounding the place. The poison in those vials —"vaccines", he'd scoffed, "what an idea"— had to have some other purpose if it wasn't meant to kill everyone. Even if he didn't have the time or investment to look into it further, he was amazed that they, having been the victims of the scheme, weren't burning with more curiosity. For his part, Thaddeus only wanted what was best for his crew and the Straw Hats.

Brook had listened to everyone's suggestions and intents with half an ear— "skull joke," he muttered passively, earning himself a puzzled look from Franky— but none of them interested him like the captain's unspoken wish. A desire to take care of his crew. To take care of Sanji.

He didn't think he'd be amiss in saying that the rest of their crew wanted it, too.

It was difficult to care about anything the other crews wanted after that. That was exactly when Bellamy decided he needed to bring a new argument to the table, a purely selfish one. Brook neither knew nor cared about what he had to say, about maps and treasures and  _just give him the books already, we don't need any more empty talk on this ship._

"I told you to leave it alone!" The quartermaster Hanako was near tears of frustration, but no one, not Thaddeus, not Law, especially not Luffy, could dissuade her antagonizer.

Bellamy had found out about the logs.

"You're not doing anything with them now, so what's the big deal?" His grin widened when she hesitated and glanced down at the books in her arms. "Yeah, you're just sitting on wasted potential, and there's probably a good haul of treasure on the other end of them. Preferably mine."

There was an affronted look in her eyes. "These are valuable for their history, not for whatever money-grubbing schemes you have!"

"Don't pretend you haven't thought about it, too. A pirate only knows how to take things; no need to cry about it."

"Oy!" Nami's expression was as sharp as her voice when she cut him off, glaring and hunched over her crutches. "You do  _not_ get to tell her who she is, jerk."

"Stay out of it, kid. I'm only sticking around grand-Law and Straw Hat because they took that stupid vial from me—"

Law scowled. "It holds a virus that's near  _fatal_ to anyone in contact."

"—and now I might as well try to make this trip a little less than a complete waste of time. If I step on a few delusional idiots' toes, I can't say I'd be really sorry."

"You must feel like  _such_ a hotshot, picking on a woman like that." Brook glanced down at the lanky figure that joined them on the lawn; Even with the occasional stutter and stammer, Sanji was still himself in many ways. It would have been surprising if he hadn't come to Hanako's defense at this point. He claimed to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing, though Brook would have preferred that he didn't involve himself in this mess with Bellamy. "Do you get a kick out of making ladies upset? Are you hoping to make her cry? Is that why you're laughing? Were you raised in a barn?  _What would your mother say?"_

He paused to catch his breath, well aware that all eyes were now on him, then added for good measure: "Bastard."

Bellamy's smile twisted nastily.

"Another one? Listen, I'm not in this to defend my actions, and I'm not gonna get all—" He froze, staring at the grim-faced Sanji planted firmly before him. " —who? Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Sanji frowned harder. "I hope you were, for your own sake."

"Look, pretty boy—"

"Don't con-de-descend me, asshole. I am perfectly serious about this."

Bellamy snorted loudly, and he actually seemed to take back some of his initial aggression towards Sanji. Now, he just looked amused at the turn of conversation instead. "You think you're helping out by bending over backwards just 'cause she's a woman? "

"I love ladies," Sanji replied, a little lighter as well. "Laugh, it's fine. I've never felt bad about it before, and I don't intend to start now. It doesn't change the way you've been harassing her, and Nami to boot."

That seemed to sour things for Bellamy, who scoffed and glared at Hanako again. "I wouldn't have bothered so much if she hadn't put on those 'holier-than-thou' attitudes. A thief is a thief is a pirate, and I just call 'em like I see 'em. She doesn't deserve those books any more than I do."

"They belong to  _her_."

"They belong to whoever steals the best."

" _Wait."_ They turned at the sound of Hanako's plaintive cry, to the sight of the Lathos' pirates' quartermaster looking completely dejected and miserable, the books clutched to her chest.

"It's true," she admitted, shoulders slumping. "I stole them. I'm a terrible archaeologist, and a worse friend. I'm sorry, Robin. I'm sorry, Nami."

Sanji watched with an unreadable expression as she looked to him reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Sanji. You shouldn't defend someone like me."

"Okay," Sanji said, turning back to Bellamy. "You heard the lady. Back off, now."

Hanako stammered. "B-but I—"

"Forget it, Hanako." Nami was smiling brighter than she had in weeks. Brook could identify with what fondness she was feeling for Sanji; it had been much too long since he acted like himself. "Once he's got it in his head to fight for you, absolutely nothing can change that. Besides, Bellamy's right; you  _are_ a pirate."

"I-I…you don't understand… " Hanako stopped when Robin laid a hand on her shoulder.

"No one is going to hold it against you, Hanako. What are archaeologists if not trespassers and thieves?" The older woman smiled knowingly and, catching a glance of Brook's questioning look, she winked furtively at him. He wanted to say that though he saw her point, maybe their ideas of archaeologist were a little biased. Regardless, he held his tongue and Robin moved the conversation on to the next question, a logical one. "On that note, where  _did_ you get these? I doubt a shipwreck could have kept these in pristine condition, but they aren't exactly archive quality."

"Who cares where she got them?" Bellamy snapped, keeping his glare fixed on Sanji. They seemed to be getting along well, in that Sanji was still following Chopper's rules about not exerting himself.  _The evening is still young_ , Brook thought, throwing a cautious glance at Bellamy, who was now considering Robin and her take on the conversation. He didn't seem to be very impressed. "The girl could have carved them out of a sea king's gut, for all that I care. She's wasting her find when there's perfectly good treasure in them."

Robin raised her brow. "Why would you think you'd find treasure in a few old navigator's logs?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he laughed. "I heard her talk about those things; they're pre-Pirate Age. Everyone knows the old pirates kept their little caches and maps that lead to them. They didn't waste time chasing dream hoards like the One Piece. They  _built_ their treasures."

There was no question as to who he was directing  _that_ comment to, even without the meaningful glance and smirk. For whatever reason, Bellamy had targeted Luffy, though the latter gave no sign that it affected him. Brook, for his part, felt as though his scowl could have been carved into his bone. He wasn't naive; he'd heard dreams and aspirations mocked before. Even his own dream had been a source of mockery from his own mind, to his own mind. But his captain's dream was too personal, too precious to be derided like this.

Sanji seemed to share the very sentiment. "Why would you think they'd want someone like  _you_ to find their treasures, anyway?"

"That One Piece comment get to you?" Bellamy smirked. "Anyway, don't waste your breath on the dead; they won't appreciate it. Getting my hands on their treasure isn't gonna make them any deader, either."

"It's still Hanako's to find, if anything," Sanji scowled. "And I didn't hear any comment on the One Piece."

"Of course you didn't. Tell you what, I'll let it go and leave your captain his delusions, okay? I can be gracious, too."

" _D-delusions—?"_

"Sanji." Brook jumped like his nerves had been fed a live current, and the look on Sanji's face reflected that very reaction. Luffy shook his head at his crewmate, bracing himself on the railing overlooking the lawn. "Don't start."

Sanji actually squinted at him, brow furrowed in suspicion and uncertainty. Had he been more laidback, the joking type, he might have feigned cleaning his ears out and asked the captain to repeat himself,  _didn't quite catch that, Luffy._  But there was no laughter on his face and no pretense of ignorance in his voice when he spoke. "What?"

Luffy's frown hardened; it seemed that he didn't appreciate being questioned in front of the pirate crew audience. Or, Brook thought, perhaps he hadn't expected Sanji to question him in the first place. Had the captain expected him to understand his intentions? "I said to leave him alone. It's fine."

None of them would have expected Luffy to back down, but it was obvious to Brook that Sanji took it a lot harder than everyone else. His face had lost all color fleetingly, before red began to settle across his cheeks. He seemed to be trying to form words, his lips moving soundlessly like the shock had stolen his voice. Even Bellamy had started to notice the extent of his hurt reaction, though Sanji's back was to him.

"Th-…that's stupid," Sanji managed, his face flushing dark like he realized what he was saying to his captain, in front of an audience of all things. "It's  _not_ fine."

"Sanji-"

"You're an idiot." He whirled around and pointed a trembling finger at Bellamy. "And  _you're_ nothing but a stupid, u-un-unimaginative bastard. Wipe that s-smirk off your s-sorry, ugly face."

Brook didn't like the way Bellamy was looking at Sanji. In lieu of anger, his expression barely hid amusement. He made to come down from his perch; the deck he could clear in a few short bounds, in seconds, really. Sanji was right: it  _wasn't_ fine.

But it wasn't Luffy that needed defending.

The crew could worry about Sanji's health and wellbeing all they wanted, but there was more to wellbeing than the physical aspect. He worried about the emotional part, the distress and the breakdowns he had watched in the secret privacy of the infirmary with Robin. Sanji wasn't talking back for the sake of it. For all of his railing against his immature captain, he respected, if not understood most of Luffy's craziest actions. No, this was coming from somewhere else. Brook could understand the reasoning behind Luffy's passiveness, but for whatever reason Sanji had fallen back solely on emotion in the aftermath of what happened on Staithe. He knew from experience how hard it was to rationalize emotions.

Bellamy only sneered as Sanji struggled to get his words around the stutter that was frustrating him. "Yeah, 'cause I want to waste my time with stupid crap like your dreams. Let me guess, you've got one of those, too."

"N-no, and th-that's beside the point, you...you sad, muh-miserable person with no h-happiness—" He seemed to have struck a nerve there, because no one saw the blow coming until Bellamy's fist was buried into the mast, mere inches from Sanji's face.

"Don't act like the shit when you're no better," Bellamy spat, towering over Sanji so he was nearly obscured from sight. "Pull your head out of your ass and get a load of what they're saying about you, the idiot who nearly got everyone killed on that wreck of an island."

That was enough for Brook. He was down from the figurehead and on the lawn before the thought had fully formed in his head. If his heart hadn't stopped over fifty years ago on the Rumbar Pirates' ship, he would have chalked up the roaring in his ears to it. He didn't think about trying to rationalize  _that_ , though the roaring only died down when he had Sanji safely behind him.

"Get back," he heard from his side and realized that Luffy was there, too. Of course he was; he wouldn't have let anyone hurt his crew on his watch if he could help it. Letting Bellamy rage on alone was well and good enough until it involved Sanji's safety. "You got to pick on people long enough. Leave him alone."

Bellamy's eyes glinted a hard black, but Brook had better things to worry about than some stranger's hateful and vengeful stare. Belatedly, he scolded himself for having waited so long to move. Sanji was no longer shaking; he was  _petrified_. Content to let Luffy deal with Bellamy and his temper, he turned aside to check on Sanji and assure him that everything was alright. He listened to Law and Zoro join them; so he hadn't been the only one to be startled into action when Bellamy lashed out like that.

"Enough, Bellamy." That was Law, striding the line between calm and annoyance so perfectly that Brook honestly couldn't tell what the man was thinking. "You have four ships' worth of people to fight with. How about you choose one who can fight back?"

"I know you don't like me but you're seriously siding with that stupid Straw Hat-"

"The only one who's picking sides is you!"

"No, let him keep going, Law. I like picking sides...against him."

"You aren't helping, Roronoa."

Brook shook his head and put his arm around Sanji, hoping to slip him back to the sleeping quarters while everyone was distracted. His crewmate's gaze was distant and cool, but not in the way he had expected. Instead of the fear he had assumed from the way Sanji had frozen at Bellamy's punch, there was a different emotion, more muddled and harder to decipher. He wanted to hear it from Sanji first, though. His silence was still the most frustrating thing that Brook had to deal with, second only to the feeling of helplessness. "He didn't…?"

Sanji pushed Brook's arm away and breathed in deeply, like he was still trying to decide which emotion was going to win out first. He would talk when he was ready, probably, but Brook wished that he would do it sooner than later for his (and the crew's) own sake.

 _I'm okay_ , Sanji mouthed, smiling a little. Brook made himself smile, too, as uncomfortable as a bared tooth smile could be. His crewmate didn't seem to mind; he actually smiled a little bigger at that.

"Hey, shut up your stupid mouths, all of you."

It was funny how Sanji's silence had made his voice that much more commanding of attention when in the past not even yelling at his crewmates for running off with the girls' snacks earned him more than a passing notice.

"If we're still picking sides...I pick his," Sanji grinned. It was hard to call it a true smile when Brook couldn't say he saw any pure happiness in it, but that's what it was.

"...what are you getting at?" Bellamy said carefully, turning his head to avoid Law's sword at his neck. It was still sheathed, but no one had any doubt as to whether it would stay that way if he provoked everyone further.

"Your fight's with the opposite side, my side. What if I'm no longer on it, though?" Sanji met Bellamy's scowl with a smug, self-satisfied smirk and held his hand out. The meaning was not lost on him; he was essentially inviting him to fight with his own 'ally', if he dared. "Welcome to the most annoying screw-up's side, bastard? Your side is my side, and conversely."

"Can't beat 'em, join 'em?" Bellamy sneered. "You're a slimy, shameless bastard and weaker than I thought. I respect that."

Law raised his brow, and Zoro glowered at Bellamy as though daring him to try anything. But he stepped back, hands raised in mock placation. "At least you know how weak you are, pretty boy."

"The name's Sanji, and I despise you terribly."

Bellamy snorted. "I can't wait for the day that I knock that empty head off your shoulders."

Brook rubbed the back of his head, wondering if anyone else was starting to get overwhelmed by the constant state of hostility between the pair. "What is happening?"

"He thinks he's gonna avoid fighting me by hanging out with me, which is the most stupid idea in the history of stupid ideas."

"I am  _defeating_ you," Sanji corrected him loudly, "by joining your side, therefore ending the fight before it begins, or at least postponing it."

Bellamy grinned. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You want her logs, right?" He pointed at poor Hanako, who had been trying to sneak off while they were distracted. She froze and gave a tiny yelp of distress. "Well, since I'm not fighting you anymore, I'll help you get your hands on them. And once your guard is lowered and I have recovered enough for Chopper's liking, I'll beat you up and return the books to dear, sweet Hanako, thereby restoring the world to its natural order for which I'll be rewarded with gratitude and a kiss upon the water (in some of the extended versions)."

They stared at him speechlessly when he finished laying out his plans to Bellamy, who was wearing a grimace that looked so disappointed and a little confused. "Was...was that actually supposed to work?"

"It sounded a lot better in my head," Sanji snapped, folding his arms over his chest. Brook placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. He had already overworked himself enough.

"I think you could use some rest," he tried kindly.

"I think I've rested enough." Sanji's eyes widened, and he gave Brook a pleading, rueful look. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

He shook his head. Sanji hadn't meant anything and he wasn't going to take offense for the hiccups and twinges of his crewmate's frayed emotional state. "You didn't," he agreed and looked around at the tense and weary faces of the crews around them. He had to imagine that they all felt, to some degree, a sense of being adrift with all of the lack of direction lately. Even having Sanji back didn't seem to help things with his own crew. Maybe they hadn't expected to get him back like this.

Sanji lowered his gaze, and Brook worried that he had accidentally spoken out loud. But he just sighed and grumbled under his breath, "Don't even know what's so special about those books, anyway."

Brook shot Bellamy a warning glare in case he decided to start up the argument again. It seemed that the other pirate wasn't interested in having an entire crew take up arms against him so soon. "Yeah, well."

Mikolo broke the silence so suddenly that it seemed to make a shattering sound. "It's very...um, you know what would clear this mood up? A good, hearty meal. I bet everyone's just really, really hungry."

Sanji gave him a hard, calculating look that seemed out of place. He had gotten along with Mikolo before; what could have put that strange glint in his eyes when he looked at the other cook? Finally, he smiled tightly and nodded, though the Lathos' cook had noticed the brief moment of hostility. "Yeah. You know what, I could go for some food. Don't tell me I can't cook, not now. You guys can scold me for it later. And while you're at it, someone can tell me what the deal is with those books."

"Sanji." He froze and shrank back when Luffy addressed him, probably remembering the way he had just spoken to the captain. Perhaps he expected anger for his words and actions, and it wasn't entirely unjustified, honestly. Or he could have imagined that Luffy would look at him in confusion and hurt, unable to understand why Sanji had lashed out like that. He certainly wasn't expecting the beaming grin that Luffy gave him, like nothing had happened, and Brook was pleased that it got a smile out of Sanji, too.

"You'll never guess who wrote those logs."

* * *

Sanji slipped away in the activity that accompanied mealtime, halfway through the second round of helpings (the fifth for his insatiable captain). Despite being the constant person of interest for the past few weeks, it was surprisingly easy to fade back into the shadows at will, a stealth that wasn't quite talent nor habit. He took a measure of comfort in this.

He broke Chopper's shuffling rule long enough to climb the stairs to the second deck without making a noise. The wound from Prussian's sword gave an angry throb, when he neared the top, but it quickly faded back into the background when he saw Nami's beloved trees. Returning to his ugly, shuffling walk wasn't so bad after that. He found a little hidden spot right along the railing that overlooked the ocean, but to the left he could see a good swathe of the main deck. There were enough shadows that anyone on the lawn would have a hard time seeing him, which was exactly what he wanted right now.

It wasn't that he and his crew hadn't gone through painful, grueling adventures before, or that he had never once thought that he was close to losing someone dear to him. They had all felt the effects of Enel's attacks for weeks afterwards, and Robin's departure on the shipwright's island and Zoro's ordeal on Thriller Bark had more than cracked the idea that his friends were invincible or indivisible. Sanji was starting to see the many ways that he had almost lost everyone in sharp contrast to what had happened on Staithe. The difference wasn't in losing them, no. He also lost them on that island, hadn't he?

He fought the urge to shudder and looked back across the deck with pleading eyes, satisfied only when he had counted each and every one of his crewmates in their various places. In the span of eight hours, those long, torturous eight hours he had thought them all dead, eight had become his most hated number. And afterwards...he thought of finding out how they had fought for him, to get to his side and save him even though there was no one to blame for everything but himself...and he couldn't think of a number he loved more.  _They fought so hard despite everything, and even Luffy who I treated so horribly just now, and all they were trying to do was protect me._

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he dug through his pockets for that new pack he had snuck past his doctor. Chopper had been on the lookout for them earlier, but he mistook the brightly colored box for candy and was immediately distracted. Of course, convincing him to forgo the store-bought "sweets" for some of Sanji's own homemade stuff was a little stickier, so to speak.  _And there's the guilt again. Good job, Sanji._

 _I need to blow off some steam_ , he told himself moodily. He lit a cigarette and brought it to his mouth without thinking, without remembering the terror of drowning until the first breath. Oh, he  _remembered_.

Smoking was a little like killing yourself in bits and pieces, if you asked the countless concerned friends, acquaintances, and random uptight do-gooders he passed by on the street. To be fair, they weren't lying. If Sanji ever wanted to correct them out loud, instead of just nodding placatingly or giving them one of his more expressive gestures, he would have said that it was like killing yourself within each breath you take. It hurt in the beginning when he wasn't used to it, and even now it was choking and burning and seemed to consume everything in its path. But it was under his control, and he loved having that in his hands.

This was  _not_ under his control.

His breath came out in a spew of smoke and saliva, the cigarette fell somewhere out into the dark, choppy waves below, and he was sure that in his haste to get the feeling out of his mouth he did end up vomiting at one point. He supposed that he should have considered himself lucky there was so much noise and activity on the main deck that no one thought to look up at his little corner of misery yet. As it was, he couldn't bring himself to really care about anything but getting rid of the smoke in his chest and lungs. Even trying to clear his throat made him think of choking on water, and that brought with it another round of retching and coughing.

Breathing heavily, Sanji pressed his forehead to the railing and cursed his own shitty mind, the pack of cigarettes abandoned on the floor near his feet. _Damn these shitty brand name smokes, too._

" _DEATH_

_there is no better bundle to grit in your teeth_

_since the lit wick_

_and the flintlock_

_the last traditional medicine."_

He had only spent an hour with him at the most but already he recognized that voice. Turning around, he found Sardoc standing behind him, bundled lightly against the ocean breeze and waving that stupid pack like he had done Sanji a favor by picking them up. Seeing that he didn't make to grab them, Sardoc shrugged and slid a cigarette out with a solemn, put-on air as though he was still reciting his strange lines.

Sanji blinked back reflexive tears as the ugly nausea gave way to dizziness and confusion. "Did you just make up a poem for my cigarettes?"

"Maybe I just did," Sardoc grinned around the stick in his mouth. "Got a problem with that?"

Sanji shrugged. Honestly, he was reminded of the really old poetry from Robin's oldest tomes, the kinds that she said used to be passed down from generation to generation by word of mouth. The words were a lot more reverent in the books, though.

"Not your taste? Try this one." Sardoc cleared his throat dramatically, eyes twinkling when Sanji hid his smile behind his hand.

" _I followed…_

_the moonlight path to the sea, the sea._

_A milky shore, a black shore,_

_I found at the end of the trail_

_things never seen to the human eye before_

_on the chalk and ink shore_

_on the sea—"_

"Okay, now you're just singing," he laughed, although there was something soothing about the words as they spilled from his mouth. He envied the sound of them compared to the awful moments when he couldn't get his own speech out. "But I kinda liked it."

"I know you're just saying that," Sardoc said, waving off his attempts at a compliment half-heartedly. He seemed to be doing his best not to smile too widely, but he looked pleased. "At any rate, I don't think DEATH Cigarettes Corp Inc., Unltd is looking for new advertising in the literary circles. What do you think?"

"I'm not too sure they're looking to lose sales, actually."

Sardoc punched his shoulder playfully. "Who raised you to be so ruthless? I'll have to thank them; this is the most refreshing 'critique' of my poetry I've heard in  _decades_. Not since Paris—"

He froze, and Sanji suddenly cursed the shadows and lack of light up here, far from the festivities below ( _how does every large group meal become such a celebration with my crew?)_. There was no way to see the look on Sardoc's face or the emotion that had stopped him short like this. Was it realization? Or anger? Nami had told him about his history with Captain Bastard...er, Duparis, and it seemed like a worse rivalry than even his with Zoro. At least he had never tried to destroy Zoro's pride and livelihood.

Finally, Sardoc sighed, hunched over the railing like there was just too much weight on his shoulders. But when he looked at Sanji, there was the steady line of a smile on his face. "Well, it was heartfelt, all the same."

Sanji wondered if he had just imagined that there was a hitch in his voice. In any case, Sardoc brought the cigarette back up to his mouth and looked at him expectantly. "Got a light?"

Wordlessly, he dug around in his pockets for his old lighter; when Luffy had returned this to him, courtesy of Duval, he had broken down into fresh tears in front of everyone. He still couldn't explain why the sight of it had filled him with such an overwhelming feeling of comfort—or was it longing for the days before they arrived on Staithe Wharf? _What I wouldn't give to rewind just two or three months right now..._

The lighter let up its merry little flame to the flick of his thumb, and Sardoc's lit cigarette returned to his lips in an elegant arc. Before he could open his mouth, though, Sanji raised a hand to stop him. "Hold on. I may have been out of it lately, but I _do_ know that you were really sick the last time I saw you. And Chopper hasn't looked too happy with what Law's been reporting back on you. Are you sure this is okay?"

Sardoc's eyebrows shot up. "Are you worried about me?"

"Did you not hear what I just said?"

He chuckled at the displeased expression on Sanji's face. "You'll find that people tend to vastly exaggerate the points and details of things that scare them. Other times I help those exaggerations along."

"You're telling me you were faking the whole thing," he said dryly, wondering if he was being serious about joking or joking about being serious. It was hard to tell in this light. "I don't believe you."

"Funny, I get that a lot. Wanna bum a smoke?"

He flinched, remembering the way that the smoke had choked him to the point where he thought he was dying again. "I-I...I c-can't actually...smoke. I don't smoke."

Sardoc looked at him out of the corner of his eye questioningly. "Should I consider myself lucky, then, that a kid who doesn't smoke just happened to be carrying a lighter and a half-empty pack for me to steal away?"

"I mean, I _do_ smoke! It's just…" He swallowed hard and figured that Sardoc wouldn't even understand the half of what he'd been through. They had no history or relationship; they might not even see each other again once they went their separate ways. "I choked."

Haltingly, he told him about his dreams of dying by water, of drowning for an eternity, of the way that the Blue Room had destroyed everything he loved about the sea and the very waves beneath the ship. How he couldn't even smoke a single cigarette to ease his nerves without his mind shutting itself down because it couldn't tell the difference between  _smoke_ and  _water_. He was so tired of accidentally setting off his panic mode while he was just trying to get through the day.

"For a smoker to be unable to smoke?" Sardoc whistled lowly, taking a drag from the cigarette in his fingers. "That's too bad, kiddo."

Sanji glared at him.  _Damn him and damn how easy he makes it look._ "You aren't helping."

"Was I supposed to? I should be discouraging you, and you should be grateful for that. Let's be honest; when you look at it from your perspective, smoking is a lot like drowning. You take in a breath devoid of pure air" —he said, inhaling deeply around the end of the cigarette— "and then it kills you, little by little. And you can get used to both of them."

"...yeah, I'm sure you can get used to drowning. You only have to die at the end."

"Same deal with cigarettes, only it's an eventual process. The secret is that you keep breathing."

Sardoc breathed out slowly, grinning at the cloud of smoke filling the span of sky above them. "You call it the push. Isn't that how you first learned how to smoke?"

Sanji would have liked to inform him that learning how to smoke and trying not to die choking were two very different things, but he realized they were much the same. He smiled at the thought of his ten-year-old self in the Baratie's empty dining room, coughing and hacking around cheap cigarettes he got from unscrupulous types that sometimes came around the restaurant. The uncertainty, the hesitation and fear...he was familiar with them before.

He lit one with shaking hands and raised it to his lips, warm and smoking. Why couldn't it have been alcohol he was afraid of? He had to deal with that on a lesser basis than smoking. But this was his vice and he really couldn't stand another night without some nicotine in his screaming body.

When he choked on the first breath, Sardoc didn't say anything of it. He just kept right on taking steady breaths of smoke, and for some reason Sanji found himself matching up his own breathing to it, until the smoke stopped stinging his throat and eyes and his body relaxed. What didn't go away was the ache in his smoke-filled lungs that made him remember the drowning well, but each exhale was a relief from that terror. And he was still in control.

"A good smoke sort of fits this kind of night, doesn't it?" Sardoc was staring up at the chilly night sky, like he was imagining some other time and place instead of  _Sunny_. "You're freezing, but it feels like someone lit a fire inside of you. _Ice and fire, without and within_."

Sanji was careful to breathe out before he spoke. "Is that more poetry?"

"You got me. I'm a one-trick pony, a sham." Sardoc laughed quietly, tracing unintelligible words on the edge of the railing. "I never had much to do when I was young...still don't, honestly. And the words just came to me. I still remember the first poem I 'wrote', three whole lines of the most inane chatter a child could come up with. Anwhe still appreciated the sentiment, though you'd have to be pretty cold to  _not_ humor a kid."

"Anwhe?"

"My very first friend, if you can believe it. We lived out in the wilderness, so I never had much to compare it to. But I loved him in the way that kids love whatever companionship is given to them." Sardoc lowered his cigarette and frowned. "Maybe that's why the fairies had so much influence on me."

Sanji studied him closely, wondering if this was another bad attempt at a joke. He decided to let it go. "So Anwhe wasn't a good friend."

"No, he's wonderful. You don't meet many like him out in this vast old world." He fixed a serious glare on Sanji, eyes like glistening pools by the sea, as deep and dark as the Grand Line itself. They were bewitching to look at. "But you don't meet one like him lightly."

Sanji had to look away. There was something else within those depths that he wasn't sure he was meant to see. Or maybe it was too hard to look at. "...I'll take your word for it, thanks."

"Are you okay?" The dark look was gone from his eyes, and it was just Sardoc standing beside him with a worried frown on his face. "I didn't mean to be bleak, I just…"

"It's fine." Sanji was surprised to find that he really meant it. He hadn't realized how wound up he'd really been until Sardoc's company let him forget everything else for a little bit. _I guess I wasn't expecting to remember the well again so soon because I was so happy._ "Actually, I really like listening to you talk."

"I'm not the only one who enjoys the sound of my own voice? _Miracle of miracles_."

"Be serious," Sanji laughed, wheezing through an unexpected hiccough that was enough to make him put the cigarette down for a while. "I can't believe this, but I can't remember not having my head spin with everything I've been worrying about. It's been a long time since I stopped worrying, but you made it so easy to forget anyway. I'm-"

He looked down at his hands, blessedly steady, and he drew in a full, even, painless breath. "I'm grateful."

Sardoc shifted beside him, almost restless. "Look...you aren't the only one."

"I'm sorry, that's...c-can I...I just wanted to say...y-you-"

They had been working up to the same thing, something that had been itching at Sanji since they were separated on Staithe. Apparently, it had been weighing on Sardoc, too. 

"—you saved my life," they burst out together, and in retrospect it was a little funny how they blushed in unison as well. Sanji busied himself with the wrapping on his fingers, while Sardoc glanced skyward as though searching for a prayer. "What I mean—"

"You go first," Sanji said, rubbing his neck sheepishly. How were they matching each other word for word? "N-no, wait. I j-just want to say this now, okay?"

Sardoc nodded.

"Back on Geone...when Prussian...h-he had me and Nami cornered and… I was so scared and out of my mind." Sanji twirled the stub of his cigarette between his fingers. "So, um...thanks. You didn't have to."

"What are you saying?" Sardoc sighed, leaning against the railing wearily. "You were scared and alone; what more reason did I need?"

Sanji smiled quietly, remembering Sardoc's attitude when they had first met in that hospital room. "You were scared, too. I didn't need a reason to get you out of there either."

"You remember that? I was hoping we could just pretend it didn't happen—"

"All that time telling Nami that you would have, in her place. But you didn't run when you had the chance! Prussian was completely distracted with us, and you stayed behind for us instead." He thought back to those heart-pounding, terrifying moments when Sardoc told them to turn and run, leaving him to Prussian's troops and (possibly non-existent) mercy. "I'm sorry, you must have been scared."

Sanji's surprise, Sardoc started laughing, shoulders-shaking-and-arms-wrapped-around-his stomach kind of laughing. He didn't stop until Sanji elbowed him impatiently. "What's so funny?"

"I'm not afraid of _him_. Men like Prussian cannot hurt me anymore."

Sanji narrowed his eyes in what he hoped was an unimpressed glare and not a pout. "Then why have you been stuck in bed this whole time?"

"Exaggerations, I say. I'm fit as a fiddle, mostly. Maybe. What's with that look on your face, Turtle?"

"Don't change the-" Sanji frowned. "Wait, 'Turtle'?"

Sardoc blinked in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry. It slipped out...but it fits, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't."

"You keep doing this thing when you tuck your head down—"

"It's cold!"

"—and you also have...why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugged, and now he knew that he was pouting. Perfect, because he hadn't yet gone through the whole rainbow spectrum of emotions today. Now he was feeling like a child, too.

Sardoc's scarf fell across his shoulders, and Sanji didn't dare raise his head at that moment. Not that he felt like he'd be able to; the gesture had left him frozen in surprise. But he was glad for it because he knew that if he looked up, it would mean letting Sardoc see the open emotion on his face.

He only looked up when Sardoc's hands had retreated, leaving the scarf tucked snugly around his neck. They fell into a gentle silence, one which neither of them wanted to break. Sanji wasn't really sure how to describe what he was feeling, and he didn't know how to read the expression on Sardoc's face, either.

Finally, they turned back to the open water, listening to the waves splash below them. Sanji would have been content to just stand there a little longer, chin tucked into the scarf, but then Sardoc turned to him with a mischievous grin and pointed at the scarf. "It suits you, Turtle."

He immediately fell under an onslaught of Sanji's blows, none ill-intentioned but all of them relentless. He surrendered after a brief struggle but the barrage did nothing to make his snickering cease.  _That horrible, horrible man._

" _Sanji!"_

They stopped in mid 'battle', so to say; Sanji was sure that he had come out with the most hits landed but with a cumulative loss altogether, if Sardoc's laughter was anything to go by. He glanced out at the lawn anyway.

Brook and Chopper were looking for him, and it seemed that they were getting the rest of the crew to help, one by one. They'd want him in bed again, probably. He was sure that they weren't too happy with how far he'd pushed his luck today, with Bellamy and with himself.

" _Sanji! Sanji, where are you?"_

He stared at his crewmates' searching sweep as it came closer and closer to his little hiding spot. There was a gentle nudge at his side, and Sardoc nodded him in their direction. Sanji started to take the scarf off, only to have the man roll his eyes and push him forward to the steps.

His smile came a lot easier than before. 'Thank you,' he mouthed.

Sardoc grinned and waved him off towards his crew's beckoning calls, and this time Sanji felt a little better about returning to the mayhem.

* * *

He waited until Sanji was safely down in the midst of the noisy feast on the ship's lawn, some distance away from the garden and out of hearing range, and then Sardoc collapsed against the railing, coughing and wheezing badly like he couldn't even breathe. His hand clawed weakly at his heaving chest, and nothing seemed capable of making that coughing fit subside. Just watching him was painful enough.

"Honestly, I cannot even begin to appreciate the full depth and extent of your stupidity, Sardoc. I'm sure it's a novel's worth."

He glanced up tiredly from where he had slumped to the floor, and a small, simple smile flitted across his ashen face. "I-I could...suh-sum-summarize for y-you."

Nami glowered at him intimidatingly, as best as she could while leaning on Ghea's arm on one side and her crutch on the other. "Spare me, idiot. I'm sure you have quite the explanation for why you're smoking like a chimney when you're approaching internal bleeding and organ failure  _in your lungs_."

He looked down at the cigarette stub in his hand, dying and crumbling between his fingers. When he looked back up at them, it was with a huge smile, completely and utterly unapologetic. "It's worth it when he smiles...isn't it, Nami?"


	36. Navigator's Logs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the crew hadn't just battled an army of the undead, Nami's sure she would have a hard time swallowing _this_ story. Meanwhile, at the feast, everything is happy, then grim, and then terrible, and the navigator's logs dreg up more questions than answers for the Straw Hats as they try to figure out just what the Project is up to.

The harsh words in her mouth met a sour death. Nami sighed; if she didn't get this sort of stupidity from her own crewmates on a daily basis, she might have been more exasperated with him. Honestly, she was touched on Sanji's behalf for the effort that Sardoc put in for him...and what an effort it was. He was still shaking with the struggle to breathe. Wonderingly, she considered his question again.

_It's worth it when he smiles...isn't it, Nami?_

Ghea and Sardoc looked up when she cleared her throat.

"I too am sometimes overcome with the urge to slowly destroy my life for Sanji's—and everyone's— happiness." Without missing a beat, she slapped him upside the head. "That doesn't mean I act upon it, moron!"

Ghea winced. "Miss Nami, I don't think he can take any more abuse."

"He'll take a lot more if he doesn't get his act together. What good are you to him if you're dead?"

"...how long were you watching?" He had changed the subject, and he knew it, too. Sardoc gave her a cautious look as he snuffed out what remained of his cigarette on the deck.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering if she had enough patience to play along. "Long enough."

"So in your opinion, trying to cheer him up was completely uncalled for?"

She sank down heavily beside Ghea, struggling to find a comfortable position to sit in that would accommodate the awful hunk of plaster that she called a cast. Her crutches were left to lean against the railing. "I get what you're saying, and I'm grateful that you cared, but you can't hurt yourself to help other people."

"What other way is there?"

"Well, _that's_ completely reassuring," she said, dripping sarcasm from every word. "I'm so glad to hear of how well-adjusted you are as a person, Sardoc. Thank you, really."

"You're...worried again, aren't you?" Catching the skeptical frown on her face, he rolled his eyes and leaned his head against one of the balusters. "Look, I'm solidly middle-aged; I've done a good job of surviving the consequences of my decision-making. I think I've learned to handle it."

Nami narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms across her chest. "So what you're saying is that your stupidity never changes?"

"Exactly...wait, what?"

Grinning smugly, she turned a deaf ear to his indignant sputtering and looked at Ghea, who had strangely fallen silent. The doctor's hands lay limply in her lap, and she wasn't even looking at Sardoc anymore. To Nami's surprise, her eyes were incredibly bright, even in the soft shadows that fell across the deck.

Sardoc had noticed as well and was watching her coolly. "You have something to say, Ghea."

Ghea stiffened, then her shoulders slumped forward. "You...didn't find him, did you?"

It took Nami a long moment to realize what she was asking, and by that time Sardoc had found his voice, given the navigator a look which pleaded help, and finally told Ghea that they never got anywhere close to it. Not that it was entirely their fault; the Dockmaster had simply never shown up once since the attack on the harbor.

"I'm sorry," Nami murmured. "We were captured by the Project...HQ's goons got to us before we even had a chance to look, and he didn't cross our paths even incidentally. But that doesn't mean anything. He might... _could_ be on one of the ships that fled...maybe he made it to the neighboring islands."

"...it's alright, Miss Nami. I didn't see him either. I don't think anyone did. I don't think he would want to, anyway."

Ghea didn't raise her eyes, and it would have frightened Nami to see such a still, indifferent expression on her face if her eyes weren't brimming with emotion. Then again, the sight of her crumbling expression on its own was enough to make her worry.

Sardoc had stopped watching them and was looking at the night sky like it might hold answers, or at the very least some escape from this conversation. _Like I'm going to let him off that easy._

"Listen to me, Ghea," Nami said firmly. "You don't know that he wasn't long gone by the time the island sank. Tell her, Sardoc. Tell her that everything's going to be okay and that she'll see the Dockmaster again."

Both girls stared at him with equal parts hope and fear, Ghea probably the most out of the two, and Sardoc looked like he was considering jumping ship to join Staithe beneath the waves. Nami didn't care; she'd put him on the spot for a reason, and that reason was Ghea's wellbeing. The young woman was already acquainted with him and seemed to trust him for some bizarre reason, so it was up to him to assuage her fears and pain.

"...I can't lie," he said slowly, like he was still putting the words to his mouth. "Nami's right."

Nami let out a shaky breath, one that she would regret as being too soon, too soon for relief. That relief evaporated like water in a desert when Sardoc continued (he should have just left it there).

"You're also right, Ghea. He'd never bother getting on one of those ships fleeing the island...not that he'd need to. The Dockmaster was gone long before either of you were even born."

"What are you saying?" Nami stammered, punching his shoulder because she was too afraid to hit him anywhere more fragile (she'd already got him across the head). "Ghea, don't listen to him, he—"

"He wouldn't..." Ghea blinked slowly, like she was just waking up from a dream. This, however, was more akin to a waking nightmare. "But I don't...I don't understand what you mean, 'he was gone long before' this. He's been with me all of my life."

"He was never really _with_ you," Sardoc said quietly, his eyes fixed on the black empty sky above them. "Not in the way you think. That's why, even if you'd asked, he wouldn't have come with you, not ever."

"Even if I asked..." Ghea sounded shattered behind her calm expression, and Nami couldn't bear to watch this anymore. She rounded on Sardoc.

"Why would you say that with such a straight face? To get a kick out of it? What's wrong with you?"

He gave her a look that she assumed was supposed to be distant and aloof, and it angered her more than his words. "Does it look like I'm enjoying this?"

"Then don't act like you don't care!" she snapped, knocking one of her crutches to the floor in her haste to stand. She stumbled over the other and fell hard against the railing, ruining whatever dramatic and intimidating gesture she meant it to be. As she regained her balance, she kicked the first crutch over the edge of the deck.

It made a fine splash in the water, to boot. _"Damn it."_

"Who says I don't?" Sardoc's eyes burned holes through her, but he handed her the remaining crutch all the same.

She was not going to thank him, _she wasn't_. Judging by the dark look in his eyes, he wouldn't have accepted it, anyway.

"I don't have a kinder answer, and I'm _sorry_. I wish I didn't have one at all; I don't want to be the one to cause anyone pain. That's why it's so hard to make myself fee-...to say all of this."

He looked at the burn mark on the floor, then reluctantly, at Ghea. "But it wouldn't be fair to you, and that matters more. The Dockmaster would string me up by the gills if I denied you your answers, your right, and I'd gladly do it again after he was finished with me, too. I...I can't promise that this is a happy story, or that I'll be able to—"

Sardoc clenched his hands, closing his fingers around the cigarette stub as though he couldn't bear to stop worrying at it. "I'll tell you what you want. Ask me anything."

There was more that he wasn't telling them, but Nami knew better than to press him for _those_ answers. Contrary to what she'd thought, Sardoc cared _too_ much; that he was trying to distance himself from Ghea's distress and his part in it was becoming obvious to her the more she watched him. Frowning, she nodded at him and pointed her gaze at Ghea. "She deserves it, Sardoc."

Ghea turned her glittering, watery-eyed gaze at Sardoc and apologized in a tiny voice, asking if he didn't mind and if he did, she was so sorry for bothering him, she really _was_.

"If an apology is due here, it's from me to you. I didn't mean to be cold." Sardoc managed a little smile, but it didn't last. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I don't care."

He lowered his eyes, but there was nothing he could do about the way his voice betrayed him, thick and halting. "There's enough of that in the world without me adding to it. I told myself...it doesn't matter what I said. You know, that's the reason Staithe came to exist in the first place, in the way it does."

"What do you mean?" Nami asked, shooting Ghea a look of confusion. "What was Staithe like before…?"

"...do you remember what the Dockmaster told you when you came to this island, Nami? What you've heard him repeat over and over for years, Ghea? It's the same thing he told me around thirty years ago, some inane thing with the WG coming to the rescue in the end."

Nami flinched back like someone had just slapped her across the face with the memory. "The virus…they didn't make it in time, did they?"

"No, Miss Nami." Ghea stared darkly at her hands, clenched into trembling fists in her lap. She was fighting very hard not to cry. "Even if they'd actually bothered trying, the WG couldn't have done anything against that 'virus'. No one could."

Sardoc looked up sharply. "Ghea—"

"It's alright, I'm not as innocent as you might think. I spent a lot of time sneaking around the offices, poking into things that I wasn't supposed to. Even as a little girl, I was able to figure out what the bolded words meant." She gave them a bitter smile, and it looked like it cost her every bit of effort to keep it there. "Can you believe the first word I ever looked up on my own was 'deceased'?"

"How many counts?" Sardoc stiffened as though he was startled by the sound of his own voice. Nami marveled that he was able to speak so evenly. She'd lost her own voice when the implications of Ghea's words had begun to register in her mind. "Do you...remember how many there were in the files?"

"I lost track," Ghea shrugged hopelessly. "But I read every last one of those files in the stacks. I never found a single scrap of evidence that anyone survived."

Nami clapped her hand over her mouth. _An island full of people...and not a one of them survived._ What shook her the most was the realization that with odds like these, Sanji had been closer to death than she had imagined. The virus had been behind them for weeks now, and the thought of losing him was a memory, recent and painful but just a memory. Hearing about the reality of its victims reminded her that they might not have been so lucky. _We almost weren't._

"...you're sure about this?" Nami frowned and clung to her only crutch to keep upright; these answers were bringing up even more questions than she had expected. But she didn't find it that much of a stretch to believe them.

_Ohara._

After learning about the fate of Robin's home, as well as the World Government's ruthless attempts to destroy her, Nami didn't doubt that they would try to cover up something like Staithe's virus if they were remotely involved. "I guess it wouldn't be the first time, or the last."

_Alabasta._

"They don't like admitting mistakes, do they?" Sardoc asked without really looking for an answer, thinking of another, older name

_Vonefjøen_

and later they'd all learn that a different name would have come to a newer friend's mind.

_Flevance._

But at the moment, those names were neither here nor there, because Ghea had clambered to her feet and stared down at Sardoc like she was struggling to keep herself rooted to the spot, like she was afraid. There was a nervous twitch in her hands, fingers finicky and tense like the apprehension before a horrible realization. "We all know Staithe died two hundred years ago now. We know the official history is a lie. If that's to be believed, then...tell me the truth about who those people on the island are."

Ghea's question confused Nami at first. If the island's original inhabitants had all perished in the epidemic centuries ago, then the people on Staithe Wharf now had to have come afterwards, migrants to a place full of death The new settlers must not have known anything about its history, or at least, nothing beyond what the island government told them. _But… wouldn't they question the lack of people? The abandonment and decay?_ A thought occurred to her, settling like ice in her stomach. Everyone died...there wouldn't have been a government left.

"Sardoc, answer her question," she said with urgency, as the ice traveled up into her chest. "Where did the current population come from?"

He watched them with scared, wide eyes, his mouth a hesitant line on his face. "Where did they come from? Nami, they never left."

"What are you talking about?"

"They...they're the original Staithe victims."

Suddenly, what he'd said about the Dockmaster being long gone—about him not being with Ghea, never to be with her, even if she asked—made sense. The eerie feeling in the forest when she and Sardoc headed out to find her friends, the Devil Fruit users comparing the cities to a graveyard...the uncharacteristic seriousness in Luffy's eyes when he said that the islanders looked like they had given up a long time ago. She didn't want to believe him, but Sardoc had covered his eyes with his hands and she could _still_ see the grimace twisting his features. If that was his reaction...

Nami glanced at Ghea desperately, only to find her standing as resolute as the day she confronted Chopper and tried to defend the Dockmaster from her crew's anger.

Her eyes were spilling over with tears.

"W-whether he was ever really with me or not…" Ghea wiped her tears, only to have more drip down her nose immediately afterwards. "It doesn't matter to me. I love him, but I couldn't even show him that. I broke the island's law because I wanted to feel special about being called a doctor, even if it meant us being separated. He was so angry the last time I saw him, but he told me to just say I was sorry and to come back with him. He still wanted me if I would just fix things."

Nami wrapped her arms around Ghea's shoulders, tossing her last crutch away even though she was already struggling to bear her own weight at this point. Trembling, the girl sagged against her and they sank to the floor in a near boneless heap. "But I—" Ghea gave a muffled sob "—I asked him why he couldn't be happy for me. I basically said no and just watched him walk away."

"It wasn't your fault," she said, knowing all too well the pain of throwing away the chance to say _I love you_ , over and over again until one day, it had become too little, too late.

" _He didn't even say goodbye."_

"Now, that would have been too sad, wouldn't have it?" Sardoc's eyes looked a little too bright for the amount of light that graced them here on the upper part of the deck, but at least he had dropped his hands to his sides. "Especially if he had hopes of seeing you again."

"Why would he—?"

"If there's one thing that's never changed, it's how much he cares about you, Ghea. That I could even begin to explain it...I arrived a long time before either of you did, and there's a lot that you don't know about the effects of the virus. It does something much worse than death. I-it twists its victims into sh-shells of themselves, ravenous, destructive beings that only take and take. When did you ever see the Dockmaster act like that, Ghea?"

He shook his head at her silence and smiled. "You changed him for the better. The old Dockmaster would have kept you and had you drown with him when the island sank. But he cared for you more, and he knew leaving you was the best thing he could have done."

Ghea turned her face back towards Nami, weeping quietly against her shoulder and clutching desperately at her damp sleeve. Nami responded with an arm around her waist, supporting her despite her own exhaustion, but Ghea's free hand dropped to her side. Without a word, she reached out across the floorboards until she had Sardoc's fingertips within her grasp.

To his credit, he slipped his hand into hers and squeezed back gently, as if to say, _I'm here, I'm here._

Nami closed her eyes and smiled despite the tears in her own eyes. She had empathized with Ghea's pain more than she'd expected, and even now, watching her cry was enough to make her heart clench. But Ghea would get through this, from the looks of it, drawing what comfort she could from Sardoc's promises and presence, however that was possible. Whatever their history, she wasn't one to pry.

Yet, the island's secretive HQ and the Project were still no closer to being explained. The virus destroyed everything, apparently; it had completely killed Staithe Wharf down to the last possible person, but for what purpose? If the island's government had died with its people, as she could only assume from the implications underlying their unhappy discussion, then who were the people in the Project, and when had _they_ arrived? Had they...had they too been twisted and changed in death by the virus, or did they have some sort of safeguard against its effects?

And where did Sardoc fit into all of this?

* * *

The cook reached for the platter of fritters with an eager hand, glad to finally have something to do on the ship other than mope and sleep. Something outside...something with people, to _help_ people. Something useful.

A loud harrumph stopped his hand midway, and he pulled back reluctantly. Frowning, he reached for the canapes, only to get another noise of disapproval from Chopper. The third and fourth trays got similar objections, swift and merciless, and he didn't even bother trying the main courses.

He sighed emphatically. "Is there _anything_ I'm allowed to carry?"

Chopper blinked innocently at him. "Your smile should be enough, Sanji."

The others agreed with vehement mutters and nods, and Sanji was distracted enough that the little reindeer snuck into his lap before he could come up with a sarcastic remark or something that would keep him from smiling reflexively at Chopper's comment. He glanced down, startled, at his friend's beaming face.

"You look really happy tonight," Chopper said, sitting with his back to Sanji's chest and carefully nuzzling up against him, antlers accidentally snagging Sardoc's scarf; helplessly, Sanji wrapped his arms around him and let out a small sigh of contentment. He was fighting a losing battle with his own smile now.

"Is that right?" he murmured, breaking out into a full-on smile when Chopper nodded and told him how nice it was.

"It makes me really happy, too."

"Shut up," Sanji said with no actual vehemence behind it. His face was warm with color; he knew the others could see it, even in the lamplight draped haphazardly all around the lawn. "I'm sorry I made you worry so much."

"That's okay. Let everyone else take care of things for a while and sit with me."

Sanji raised a brow. "Because I'm weak?"

"Because I want to sit with you."

Everyone laughed, but Sanji couldn't help hiding his face in Chopper's hat, muttering that such comments weren't good for his heart. "No, no, I don't need a checkup...Chopper, don't cry. I didn't mean it like _that_."

After the doctor was sufficiently satisfied with the condition of Sanji's heart, he set out to feed him the best of what was laid out on the trays around them and refused to let anyone take the choicest pieces away from his cook. Unfortunately for Sanji, his and Chopper's tastes didn't exactly coincide often, and he ended up eating very few of the most sugary treats reserved for him, but he appreciated the effort all the same. He wasn't hungry anyway.

Pursing his lips tightly, he ignored the hollow feeling in his stomach and tried to keep his hands busy with the velvety feel of Chopper's antlers. It elicited a few giggles and questioning glances from his friend, though he seemed to understand Sanji's need for something to do.

Looking around at their little group clustered near the center of the gathering, Chopper waved to Robin and motioned at the archaeologist next to her. Smiling, she nodded back and nudged her companion. "Sanji wants to hear about the logs, Hanako."

"O-of course. Would you like a look at them?" Hanako pulled the books out of her bag, casting a nervous glance in Bellamy's direction as she did. The other pirate had behaved so far but it seemed she was still on edge because of the things he'd said earlier.

Sanji shook his head. "I just want to know what they are, that's all."

He didn't want to frighten her any more than she already was, with Bellamy threatening to steal them and after she had admitted to coming by them through unscrupulous means. Besides, books weren't really his strong point. Better to be given an explanation than the task of deciphering some pirate's messy scrawl.

Hanako bit her lip and stared down at the books in her lap, and she began to recite what she _did_ know about them, from evidence and through deduction. They dated a few years before the beginning of the Pirate Age, meaning that most of them were honestly no more than thirty years old. Besides the meticulous, near-obsessive navigational recordings and charts, there was a lot of anecdotal data in the entries, along the margins, over the maps. Some of the early ones might have been written by a youth, as hard as that might be to believe. Not because of the handwriting; no, the print was as clean and neat as the later entries. But the narratives, musings, and half-finished afterthoughts in the notes had the voice of a child.

"If so," Hanako said, tracing the script on one of the pages with the tip of her finger, "then this navigator began as a clever little author, very thoughtful and insightful. Maybe a bit dramatic at times, but you'd expect that from a child."

"I bet he and Nami would have loved to talk about maps and stuff," Luffy opined, nearly scaring Sanji out of his skin when he appeared out of nowhere at his shoulder. "But you haven't gotten to the best part, Hanako. Make Sanji guess who the navigator is!"

"Is it someone we know?" Sanji asked tersely, still clutching his chest. Now _that_ wasn't good for his heart _._ "Luffy, I get that you're excited, but you have to stop wringing my arm like it's your dinner napkin."

Luffy's smile was curling at the edges in an unnerving way, and he didn't release him, but he obediently loosened his grip on Sanji's arm. "Yeah, someone does...Zoro, tell him. No, I'll tell him! You're not gonna believe this, Sanji! Wait, do you think it's better if Zoro tells you? I never really thought about saying stuff the second it pops into my head. I'm the captain so I get to say what I want but now I'm thinking about things first and Nami says that's good. But I wanna tell you right now 'cause it's so funny and awesome even though I've been thinking that Zoro should get to because it's _his_ father and everything—"

Sanji had started to tune him out around the moment Zoro was brought up, but he felt he had to put in some effort for his captain's sake. This was the most he'd ever seen Luffy contemplate something, albeit out loud. "Your face is about to split along the mouth. What's gotten you in such a state?"

Luffy gave him the most intense stare he'd ever seen; he looked ready to explode from sheer excitement alone. _"The moss that leads the ship."_

He was sure that his captain would never come up with such a bizarre, cryptic message like this again, and he couldn't decide if it was pure genius or just stupid beyond measure. Whatever his intention had been, Sanji was listening now.

"He means my father wrote the navigation logs—" Zoro muttered in exasperation at both Luffy's nonsensical enthusiasm and Sanji's confusion "—wait, what are you suggesting, Luffy?"

Sanji's laugh was like a bell, sudden and clear across the deck's four corners, the happiest they'd heard him in a while. "Mosshead, what a clever, refreshing joke! This really beats out all the names and insults you've thrown at me in the past. I really appreciate it, thank you."

Zoro stiffened like an electrical current had been set to his spine. He stood and reached for the first book from Hanako's pile that he could lay his hands on, shoving it into Sanji's face with a grunt.

Sanji took the slim volume from him, eyes narrowed skeptically as he tried to figure out just how elaborate a ruse this was. _He wouldn't actually dare to damage such a prized possession of Hanako's, regardless of whether she's crew or not._ The pages were well-kept for an old book, he thought, even though it was only thirty years old at most. There was some faded but intricate design on the endpages closest to the cover, but his attention drifted over it like water. He turned the loose pages instead and let his focus settle on the most absurd twist of reality he'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. "...Roronoa...Quinto."

He stared at the writing, then at Zoro's scowling face. His eyes returned to the page, discerning. He looked back up with a pout. "Nuh-uh, can't be related."

Zoro was seething. _"Why does everyone keep calling me hopeless?"_

Usopp and Franky shared an unsympathetic look for Zoro between them. "You're the one who said it."

"W-what?" Zoro stopped himself and took a deep breath which seemed to do nothing to calm him down. "Listen, Curly-frown. I think I'd remember my own father's name, seeing as it's the last thing I ever heard from my mother."

Sanji's glare softened, and Usopp and Franky looked sheepish about it, but it was Robin who was apologetic for them all. "Zoro, I'm sure none of us truly meant to make light of your personal life."

"Did you...did you lose your mom as a kid, too?" Usopp asked softly.

Zoro shook his head impatiently. "No. One day, I was out training in the woods behind the courtyard and I'm sure she just moved our house, her dojo, and the entire village when I wasn't looking. It's the only explanation for why I never saw her again."

" _You got lost from your own home, idiot!"_

"That…" Robin and Franky exchanged a wearied look over Zoro's and Usopp's death-glare-death-match. "...that is truly concerning, Zoro."

"I know; she was always pushing me to train hard, but that was impossible, even by her standards. I defeated every dojo from there to the sea and back, but I never found her. She must have been on to me the whole time."

Sanji grabbed Zoro by the head and hauled him up to his own face, a bright, intense look brimming in his blue eyes. He was aiming for compassion, but honestly the swordsman was making it so difficult to do so. "I don't know how to tell you this, crewmate, but if this guy's really your father, then you need to leave a thousand food offerings at his grave and pray for forgiveness so he can break your 'lost cause'...I mean, curse. Your lost curse."

"I'm not cursed."

"How do you explain that, then?" Sanji shoved him away and pointed accusingly at the words _Roronoa Quinto_ on the book's first page. "A navigator, probably with pride in his life's work, and his only moss baby with no sense of direction. Shame. _Shame!_ He died of shame...your own father, Mosshead!"

"I didn't _kill_ him."

Before either of them could work themselves up any further, Chopper jumped down from Sanji's lap and shifted into Heavy Point in order to separate them. "Sanji, that's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"It's just so heartbreaking." Sanji clasped a hand to his mouth. He was a dramatic actor when he wanted to be, and he enjoyed it doubly so when it was at the swordsman's expense. "I can hardly bear it."

Zoro growled from behind Chopper's arm. "Something's about to break, all right... _Chopper?"_

"Is it really true? Is Zoro's dad gone because he was sad?" Chopper whimpered.

"A sweeter tragedy has never been heard before," Brook sighed, drawing a few notes from his violin to test the melody forming in his head. "Zoro, is Roronoa spelled with one or two _l'_ s?"

"Alright, everyone needs to calm down." Law and Bellamy looked up at Luffy in awe and grudging respect accordingly; though he was disorderly at best, he knew when to step up and take charge of his crew. "Zoro's dad is not dead and no one's gonna cry over it, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Franky sniffled. "Damn, I really hope not, otherwise I cried over nothing."

"I'm positive," Luffy nodded. "We're gonna go on an adventure with him, remember? Him and Curly-captain, so he's not dead until I say so, which is never."

"Curly-captain?" Sanji scowled, covering his forehead instinctively. "Is that a new way of making fun of my eyebrows?"

Luffy whirled on Hanako with renewed fervor. _"You didn't tell him about the Curly!"_

Robin carefully pried her poor, petrified archaeologist friend—the only one she had, really— out of the captain's hands and gently set her back on the deck. "Luffy, we were talking about the navigator, remember? Now, Sanji...in order to understand the Curly-captain you need to know the Moss Papa who doesn't get lost. "

"O-okay." To say that he understood nothing would have been an understatement. The only thing he was certain of was that Zoro's father really had written the books; there was conviction in Zoro's eyes that would let little else be true. Besides, it had a bit of delicious irony to it, right? Maybe this Roronoa Quinto had pissed off some sort of navigator spirit and cursed his offspring to eternal directionlessness. He smirked and imagined the exchange between father and son if they ever met.

('Son, I'm sorry for ruining you.'

'What are you talking about? I always get to where I need to be.')

_Maybe that's how the navigator gene was passed down. There are different manifestations of...no, I can't lie to myself. The guy is a hopeless case._

"What's this promising specimen of marimo like, anyway?" Sanji ignored the thump of Zoro's hand coming down across his head and waved Robin and Hanako on cheerfully. "Don't mind him. Tell me about Roronoa Quinto before the captain has a conniption."

Luffy heaved a deep, desperate breath and draped himself over Sanji's shoulders, taking the opportunity to shovel a handful of treats off the tray in front of him while talking. "He's so calm and quiet and likes bookish stuff like reading and writing and I guess that's why he wrote so much in these books but there's more and it's really funny like he gets really, really drunk easily so this one time—"

Sanji watched as he collapsed, out of breath and choking slightly on the sugared strawberries. "Luffy, breathe."

"While the captain catches his breath, why don't we look at Roronoa, in his own words?" Robin nodded at the book in Sanji's hand and smiled. "Would you like to do us the honor?"

He didn't know why, but the thought of turning the page past Roronoa Quinto's name wasn't a compelling prospect. Perhaps he was unnerved by the idea of actually meeting one of his friends' parents, even if it was through a journal like this. "But wouldn't it be so much nicer to hear sweet Robin's pure, angelic voice reading it out loud instead?"

"As you wish, Sanji." She sounded amused as she took the navigator's logs back, brushing his bandaged knuckles with an accidental but gentle touch. "Do you want us to start with this one…? Alright, we will."

She idled through the first pages of the log that Sanji had chosen, a parchment-papered journal with silver-gilt ribs and a pyrogravure plate inside its front cover. The name was a near-effortless scrawl, flitting just on this side of readable and punctuated with a rose-shaped seal at the end. Going by the words burned into the bookplate, it had been a gift from the captain himself.

" _Though I am timid, I celebrated this gift with a kiss that made the Captain's cheeks bloom not unlike roses and burn like a brand on my lips. And though I was perhaps blushing with even more fervor than that, I forced my eyes to follow the hesitant lines and curves that didn't quite make a smile, the ripple of emotions that Duparis couldn't quite control. There is a measure of pride to be had in bringing out the human in a face so porcelain and composed. There is also a bit of tenderness in it._

_The almost-smile crystallised, near hidden from my sight, and the Captain shrugged, a "you're welcome" that tried too hard not to care._

_I nodded and waited a proper stretch, not wanting to hurry the moment on, and the wind filled our sails eventually. We'd only had need of half a day's wait this time. The sea can be cruel but her kindness sustains us._

" _Hm, she surprises with her sentimentality sometimes," I said, though I was hardly referring to the sea._

_The Captain knew it and took that rose garden blush and smile away to the helm, lamentably. These days, it's not always easy to get the mask to drop, even for me._

_I didn't need to follow with my eyes anymore; I'd seen enough. I had the Captain's hands etched in my mind's eye, and it was easy to picture them on the ship's wheel. The hands that guided the ship that night bore burns from being careless with the wax and glue, thin red slivers from cutting and threading new paper._

_I will keep my secret knowledge to myself, as I am wont to do with the things I treasure. I hoard, and I have my favorites. Romance, among them..._

_Know that I am a romantic._

_You have to be, in this world of all worlds of worlds. You have to have romance. A heart cannot survive for long without it, and there's nothing sadder than an empty heart, a heart dead while still beating. It isn't terribly difficult to find, either. When you look out at the world, this sea upon sea that we live in, how can you not see it?_

…Sanji?"

He didn't realize how flustered he'd gotten until everyone was looking at him in various states of concern and curiosity. Blushing as bright as the captain in the story, Sanji tried to hide the way he was clutching his chest, heart thundering beneath his hand, and cleared his throat gruffly. "I-I'm fine. Just...let's look at something else, okay?"

 _Shit._ He wished that he'd just let Robin continue where they'd left off. The navigator's writing struck a chord in his heart, and his mind had gotten ahead of him when he started imagining Roronoa's voice in his ears, a deep, pleasant sound that made him feel like warm honey was settling in his stomach. It was hard to swallow when he thought of what followed, and shit, he was blushing again. Maybe...maybe it was for the best that Robin moved on to a new entry after all. "I-I'm still curious about the captain, actually. That's Duparis, isn't it?"

"It would seem so," Brook nodded, reading over Robin's shoulder with piqued interest. "A little more subdued than the one we met in the other logs. Perhaps the years tempered and matured the pair of them?"

Zoro rolled his eyes, leaning back against the mast comfortably. "Sentimentality, alright."

His eyes flitted over Sanji's troubled expression and he frowned at Robin, who closed the book and handed it over Chopper's head to the cook. _Something's bothering him._

"We could look at one of the others, if you prefer." Robin had caught the meaning behind Zoro's look and knew to steer the conversation along immediately. "It _is_ quite different from the earlier ones."

"It's...introspective." Sanji muttered, looking around at the rest of the crew as he laid the book in Chopper's lap. "Like something Roronoa kept close to his heart. I don't...I don't know if I chose the right one to read after all."

"You really care about some bastard pirate's personal gibberish that he left lying around in a book?" Bellamy scoffed and threw the rest of his drink back, grimacing at the taste. "Ugh, weak. I hate you more than I thought, pretty boy."

Sanji bristled. "H-how would _you_ l-like it if suh-someone ripped open your in-...i-innermost thoughts a-a-and…"

He opened the book again, but this time his eyes were blind to the words on the page. Not that it mattered; he was interested in a different subject, and his mind provided the material for it nicely. _"D-dear diary, I, Bellamy (who is writing this even as I speak), woke up this morning with the eternal urge to belittle others to feel good about myself, so I decided to make fun of a deep, introspective piece of memoir. My heart felt a little lighter after that."_

"Okay, first of all—" Bellamy interrupted fruitlessly, rolling his eyes when Sanji ignored him and continued on to detail the euphoria he felt at making a woman cry. "It's not that good, asshole."

" _Dear Diary, I don't like talking about my feelings so I have to shit on everyone else's in order to cope. Love, Bellamy."_

"Shut _up_ , you over-emotional _twig_."

Sanji didn't stop even when he was hauled off the floor, raising his voice when Bellamy started shaking him in an attempt to make him stop. _"D-DEAR DIARY, I-I'M BELLAMY AND I'M I-I-INSECURE ABOUT MY SHOULDERS."_

"WHAT—?"

Zoro shoved Bellamy off him with little more than a sharp glare and some choice curses, and Sanji found himself pressed against his crewmate's sword side, nose buried in the crook of his neck. He could tell because he had several sword hilts shoved into his gut, and while he appreciated the gesture, he appreciated the sword hilts less. "Lay off, bastard. The twig's _ours_ to strangle."

Sanji's appreciation evaporated like steam, and he shoved away from Zoro. "I'm not…"

"I'll let the twig alone once he gets out of my a—"

"I-I'm not—" Sanji grit his teeth and clutched the log closer to keep his hands from trembling. No one was listening to him again, and he couldn't blame them; he wouldn't have the patience to wait for someone like him to finish speaking either. But he _could_ be angry at them. "W-would you both sh-shut _up_?"

Before he even had time to blink, Bellamy stepped past Zoro and snatched the book from his hands. He waved it before Sanji's eyes, his smirk widening at the shock and dismay on his face. "The only value this book has depends on whether or not this bastard's treasure is still around. Now, help me look around for something useful in this heap of trash."

At the look of confusion on Sanji's face, he rolled his eyes and tossed the journal onto the pile in front of the archaeologists, the rest of the contents of Hanako's archaeological chest. "You said you're on my side, so prove it."

Sanji fell to his knees before the open box and gently cradled the book in his hands, glaring hard at the cover because he didn't dare raise his eyes at Bellamy. "Look for them yourself."

He did take a closer look at the rest of the box, once he had made sure that Roronoa's journal wasn't damaged in any way. Beneath the series of books—and they were mostly navigational logs, with maps and charts and long sequences of coordinates so condensed that only a navigator like Nami could figure them out—Sanji found a sheaf of papers that might have been slipped in with the News Coos' deliveries thirty years ago. _It looks like wanted posters haven't changed much since; even though the photos look old, these could have been made yesterday._

"Are these…?" Curious, he examined them one by one, so engrossed in the old black-and-white photographs that he didn't even mind Bellamy leaning over his shoulder to take a closer look. He handed them up the other pirate one by one as he finished looking them over, noting that they had an extra numeration on the bottom right corner that didn't fit in with the rest of the poster. _"RSTRD No. 18..._ look, everyone has a number like it but there's no bounties on them. What does that mean?"

Robin's eyes narrowed, a slight but sure sign that she had also been frustrated by the posters. "I've considered some possibilities, but so far nothing has given me a good lead on that mystery. As hard as it is to accept, my research will have to wait until the next port, but I agree, Sanji. It doesn't make sense."

"I'll say," Bellamy snorted, holding one of them up to the light. "How's anyone supposed to know whether these pirates are worth the trouble with no bounties?"

"Maybe they don't want anyone coming after them," Chopper offered hesitantly, inching closer to Sanji now that he was on the ground again. His grip on Sanji's sweater was like iron this time; he was not letting go for anything. "Would...would that be a good reason to take the bounties out?"

Robin smiled kindly at him, but before she had the chance to say anything Zoro shook his head. "Pirates don't get to retire, Chopper. They either die in prison or on the sea."

Sanji knew that he was only being honest, but he might have used a little more tact in saying something like that to Chopper. "Oi, lighten up on the doom and gloom, Dirtbrain."

"What was that, Lovely repellant?" They glared over Chopper, neither taking their eyes off the other as they fought to be the first to pat his head comfortingly. Seeing as Chopper had banned all of Sanji's usual activities, this was one of the few ways they had left to "spar".

Chopper glanced up at them with a straight-faced expression. "Thanks, but you're both making me uncomfortable. I want to see the posters again; you're hogging them."

Sanji tsk'd and rapped his knuckles against Chopper's forehead. "I thought you already saw them, Chopper. Here, this one's a doctor, just like you."

"My favorite…" Chopper climbed back into Sanji's lap and stared down at the poster, tracing out the name _Dysmas Luka_ out under the pirate's photograph. The man had a gloved hand raised to his brow, clutching a dripping pair of forceps and smiling like he wasn't up to his elbows in blood and gore (the black and white photo seemed to censor a lot of it just by the absence of color). "He looks really nice even though he's a pirate."

"You're a pirate and you're nice, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm different. I'd give him a chance, though."

"You'd give everyone a chance," Zoro said, rolling his eyes and leaning in to look at the doctor's poster. He was also curious to see Sanji's reactions to the bounty posters, even if none of them had bounties to speak of. "His arm's blocking out most of his face. Hold on, there's another one under his...and she's doing the same. _Ozvalde—"_

He glanced at Robin and raised his eyebrow skeptically. "I didn't think about it before when we first saw them, but...doesn't it look like they're blocking the camera on purpose?"

"Why would they do that?" Sanji asked, though it sort of fit when he thought about it. No bounties, obscured photos, missing crew. There was a mystery to be solved here. "Oh, here's Moss Papa, and he looks...wow, are you sure you're related, Zoro?"

He held up Roronoa's poster and grinned sarcastically. The family resemblance was uncanny despite half of his face being obscured by the wicked keen edge of his sword, but only if they knew where to look. Personally, Sanji thought that it was the no-nonsense, murderous gleam in their eyes that sent an unbidden shiver down his spine, and he was a little disappointed that his mental image of the sensitive and thoughtful Roronoa didn't match the photograph at all. Maybe it was a Roronoa trait to look like a vengeful wraith of a human, at least in the eyes.

Zoro shrugged. "You tell me. I haven't seen him since I was probably five, and that photograph was definitely taken a long time before then."

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me you're not even a little excited to discover your origins." Sanji poked his shoulder impatiently, annoyed that this was the extent of his visible reaction. Didn't he care that they were looking at an actual, black-and-white photograph of his _father_? _What I wouldn't give for a photo of Mima and Isa…_ "Your roots, Green Algae. Those don't have roots, shit. Cactus. Hey, look at me, you lazy kelp."

He jerked back in surprise when Luffy shoved a different poster into his face. "Sanji, look! That's the Curly-captain I was talking about! I dunno why Moss Papa calls him curly, but here he is! Look!"

Sanji took the page carefully and glared at Luffy for wrinkling it. As if they hadn't already done enough wear to Hanako's belongings by putting their hands all over the old papers and journals. Miffed, he studied the captain's picture, face mostly hidden by a playful tilt of his hat. _All smiles with this one. I wonder why all the photographs are this badly obstructed. It's like they really don't want to be seen...but then what's the point of a poster if no one can recognize you?_

"Camera shy, aren't they?" He smiled cheekily at Luffy, who shrugged and rested his chin on Sanji's shoulder.

"They're in the wrong business for that," replied his captain. "A pirate has more fun with a bounty."

They found more beneath the "bounty" posters, newspaper clippings and articles from decades ago, and among them was an interview that seemed to shed a little light on the matter. It was in the captain's own words, at a society ball hosted by someone with an incredible amount of titles to their name, the fourteenth in a line of similarly-named individuals.

_Yes, the views in the photographs are obstructed. The crew does that on purpose, you see. It makes them just a little harder to identify, but only just. You can't be bothered to piece us together from what we give you? Well, that's on you. We prefer to keep our semi-anonymity, thank you._

_Why? ...my crew and I, we find it that much easier to blend in at port that way. You see, I like to catch a good opera at the theatre, a fine music-hall singer, the latest soirée or ball...my favored salons. I like the pursuit of my pleasure, unobstructed._

_...oh, the evening's drawn to a close. Last dance, on me?_

"He...has expensive tastes, doesn't he?" Sanji said mildly, for lack of anything else to say. Honestly, he found the Curly-captain's words bewildering and alien to him. He'd served the society sort of folk before, people who seemed to thrive on nothing but the pure thrill of seeking the extravagant and the indulgent, and he had never been able to picture himself ever obsessing on something like that. "The captain, I mean?"

To his surprise, Luffy threw his head back and laughed. "The way I see it, Curly-captain's just fun-loving all around."

"He seems like a character," he smiled weakly, tracing the smile on the bounty poster in his lap. He wondered why he kept getting the odd feeling that it was a familiar grin when he'd never met this man before. "Hey, can we look at one of those other logs, then? Something fun?"

As he picked up one of the other logs, a new parcel fell out of them, a cleanly tied bundle of papers and booklets. Sanji didn't even wait for anyone to speak before going at the knot as well as his clumsy, achingly healed fingers would let him. Robin came to his aid with a pair of quick hands and steady fingers, and the whole packet came apart in between the pair of them.

Inside the bundle was an array of flyers, variety bills, and tickets for various theaters and music halls, and all of them had the same rose-shaped seal he had seen on the inside of Roronoa's journal. He frowned; these shows were all for some performer stylistically titled the Reaper Rose.

_[ —Tonight Only! The Enigmatic and Noble Lady Singer_

_the REAPER ROSE of_

_North Blue! Don't miss the Tragic Bloom alongside_

_LOCAL favorite SIE VALENSE—]_

_—_

_[—The Pink Starlet is BACK_

Savor the VOICE

_Months of October and December_

_Come VIEW the Sweetheart Death-plucked_

_flower REAPER ROSE_

_Symphonic Royal Heavens Band_

_Dates: Oct—]_

Bellamy cringed at the sight of all the different shades of pink that made up the flyers and theater bills...even the tickets were pink. "What is it with the pink theme they've got going? We get it; the flower is her shtick."

Sanji raised his eyebrows at a rare black-and-white posterbill for one of the shows; the typeset was flowery and pink on this one. He looked closely at the profile of the singer, an artist's depiction of her that wouldn't have been half-bad if they hadn't labelled her a porcelain dollface with "a countenance like glass and fine china". The only features they colored in were her pink lips (no surprise there) and her cascading pink locks (he wondered if it was artistic license or if the singer really dyed her hair that color). "I can't blame them for being so...enthusiastic about her. A-anyway, _I'd_ go see her."

"Because she's a _lady_?" Bellamy drawled.

Before they could pick up _that_ argument again, Usopp reached over them both and dug quietly through their pile, shaking his head in exasperation at the two of them. "Honestly, you're worse than with Zoro—"

Sanji blanched in shock. " _E-excuse_ yourself, Longnose."

 

"How come we ended up with this?" Robin cut in with a remark to the archaeologist at her side. "Hanako...you never did answer the question earlier."

"What do you mean?" Hanako looked startled to be at the center of the attention once more, and her eyes darted to her right, to where Bellamy stood, brooding over the way things were going. "I-I'm sorry, I just…"

Robin nodded thoughtfully and rested her chin in her hand. "You said you stole them. The nagivator's logs. The earlier ones were interesting enough. And this...this is not a series of navigational logs and journals. As amusing as they are, these are someone's personal belongings. _Where_ did you get these?"

"That's enough." Thaddeus stood up, moving behind Hanako to stand with his arms crossed over his chest. There was no amity in the captain's eyes anymore, a startling sight after weeks of getting to know him and his crew. "Hanako is my crew. She's trusted. But she's had those since we picked her up five years ago, and it was hard enough for her to talk about it then. I won't have her pushed any further."

He looked down at his quartermaster kindly, and Sanji felt a degree of warmth for the man's protectiveness towards her. Now _there_ was a man to be admired. "If you don't want to, they won't make you say anything."

"I…" Hanako smiled uncertainly. "Thank you. But…"

She nodded at Robin, regret welling up in her eyes. "Robin's been so good to me, and I don't...you don't meet many people as brave and fascinating as her, as kind. I want to stay friends with her, if she'll have it. Besides, this secret's been kept with us for too long."

Secret? Was there more to the story besides theft? Sanji felt his stomach clench and tried to breath more steadily. It could mean nothing for Roronoa. He was just jumping to conclusions, that was all.

"I stole them, it's true. Around five years ago, two women approached me, as a pair. One was plain and unremarkable but for her eyes. I can't describe them, but the other was like her gloomy, angry shadow, with moonmilk eyes and black, black hair."

Sanji's heart tried to sink like lead through his stomach and to his feet, only to hit a snag in the ugly, hungry hollow of his stomach. A black hole hollow, except he wanted anything but to eat or fill it. He must have looked peaky because Franky squeezed his shoulder in comfort and leaned in to ask him if he needed to lie down. Sanji shook his head no, and he repeated it to the next question, also. Neither rest nor water could fix this, he was sure.

"They were looking for quick eyes, a knack for detail, and desperation. I had all three with an abundance of the last. The briefings were short and simple: I studied the ship's layout, figured out where I could sneak in and out easily, and learned how to get around even the locks I didn't know how to pick. I didn't have to worry about defending myself or anything; they would provide the distraction.

I didn't think stealing a few navigation logs could hurt anyone that much…"

Hanako cupped her hand over her mouth and drew in a shuddering breath. "I wish I hadn't followed so blindly."

Sanji shook his head quietly. Already, he dreaded hearing the end of the story; if Hanako's mysterious employers were as she described, then he knew that there was no good ending for the ship.

"It was a merchant ship, class _V,_ twelve passengers in addition to the cargo from Port Siprase, that we ambushed that night in North Blue. They said the navigator had Observation, yet I somehow got on without anyone noticing.

I remember that I couldn't find the logs anywhere, that I was near tears and ready to give up when I stumbled across them in the cabins. I was so stupid; that should have tipped me off that something wasn't right. That it wasn't just navigation logs those women wanted. I realized they had more in mind only when I came above deck...I saw burning sails.

Four ships for one on the horizon, armed against unarmed. They set it afire first, destroyed the boats then got ready to shoot down anyone who tried to escape. Only one boat, on the port side, was left open for me...

That was where Roronoa found me."

Luffy's eyes were steel, and Zoro's mouth was set so thin as to cut, sharp as a grim killing blade. His expression was unreadable.

Hanako's was bent and bowed, her shoulders hunched in fear. "He's terrifying, you know. With that sword, he brought down a good number of them, meeting them wave after wave without rest. He did everything he could for the crew and passengers. But by the time he had it pointed at me, he was standing on only one good leg, and I still couldn't move. I didn't even care if he did kill me; I wanted to die from the guilt.

He saw his books in my hands and I swear that for a moment, there was something monstrous in his eyes. I don't know if he would have let me go a second time, but he nodded at the boat behind me, the last boat left. There was no other way to escape alive from that hell, and he offered it to me. Of course, I didn't know what to do with it at that point even if I wanted to move. The next thing I know, his sword came at me...he'd lunged and I guess I wanted to live, after all, because I fell back to avoid it. I fell over the railing, I watched the sword cut through the ropes, and I hit the water with the boat.

When I think back on it, there's only one other clear memory I have of that night. It's of how the ship sounded when it shattered…"

"...what of Roronoa?" Sanji didn't realize he'd spoken until he became aware of how many stares were suddenly on him again. But then again, he didn't feel like he _had_ spoken for himself, but like someone else was speaking through him. He honestly didn't want to hear the rest of the story, but...he got the feeling that someone else _did_. "What happened to him?"

“I-I-I told them that—” Hanako caught herself and backtracked quickly, shaking her head slightly for getting ahead of herself. “Th-those women brought me in...they had the boat hauled up to their ship, demanding the bundle I’d stolen. The pale-eyed one shook me down for information: _How many escaped? Were witnesses of concern? Where was the Observer?_

I did the best I could with her questions. 'None of the passengers had made it to a boat. The possibility of witnesses was negligible. Just who is the Observer?' But my answers cost more and more of her patience. I got the feeling she didn't have much in the way of temperament.

The other woman, the one she called 'director', she saved me the trouble and asked pretty much the question you did. 

'About Roronoa, if you please,' she said. I was too nervous to do anything other than oblige. I told her the truth: he'd already been injured before the blast, too much to have gotten out of the explosion's range in time. She didn't seem too interested in his behavior towards me or the journals I'd stolen, or how he let me escaped, but she was pleased with my report anyway.

‘Excellent,’ she...the director said, turning to a figure in the shadows whom she referred to as Zero. ‘Make sure he’s finished.’

I couldn't see most of their interaction, but after a short silence following her words, Zero dipped their head forward, a nod, an acknowledgement. There wasn't the faintest gleam in their eyes, like all of the light had been carved out. No sign of recognition but for the nod they gave the director.

They followed the director’s orders to a T. Didn’t come up until they found Roronoa’s body, and didn’t let him take a single breath more. We watched them turn his own sword on him. The director and the woman with the pale eyes led me away after that. She handled the journals for maybe five minutes at most before dropping them at my feet.

A little extra, for friendship, she said glibly.

I...I took off the next morning with the logs and didn’t stop running.”

_It...can't be._

Sanji recognized the odd, empty feeling behind his eyes when he fell away from the conversation. It was a sensation he had come to associate with tuning into that person's mind, the one searching for her beloved sister.

He knew enough to associate that thought lingering in his head with her, _not mine, not my thoughts anymore_. But he'd never slipped into the stream while awake, never like this (something is wrong). After the first, no other thought came from her, and he was left to drift in silence. He couldn't see or hear anything anymore in a way that he was connected to his body; he felt like he was hundreds of miles underwater and trying to scream for someone to notice.

(something is wrong)

It hurt to think that no one had noticed. This was different from his lucid dreaming, and he was trapped and alone and wanted someone to shake him out of it, to _save_ him. _And they couldn't see it._ Sanji barely had time to linger on those thoughts when he felt something else…unbearable…silence… and then that voice was back. Not her, not the one searching for Beloved, but the intruder, a shadow of a shroud with black, black teeth and a voice of mulled wine.

**HAVE BEEN WAITING A LONG TIME FOR THIS…**

 

**...NORMANDEAU.**

* * *


End file.
